Return Tripping
by The Dark Madness Dragon
Summary: Returning back home. Seemed like a blessing for him, till he got a message that he had to do a mission on the way back, but this mission may be the one thing that may change him forever... (DJ's story as he returns home, hopefully will intersect with Hank's Legacy, a story done by Spirit9871. Beta-Readers/Gods in their own right: Spirit9871 and Alias-Maxima
1. Chapter 1: Sand

Chapter 1: Sand

Loud bangs echoed across the silent desert, along with the clang of thin metal being blasted apart.

A man stood leaning against a sand blasted jeep, occasionally taking a drink out of a can of week old flat Dr Pepper as he watched the sunset on the edge of the horizon.

He finished the can off, grimacing slightly at its warm and rather unappealing contents.

After he reloaded his shotgun he threw the can a good few meters into the air, then aimed and fired. The buckshot all missed somehow. He frowned and looked at the old gun.

"Time to pay Garm a visit. My gear is in such shit shape." he muttered, looking at the dented barrel, cracked wooden stock and rusted body of his poor battle worn shotgun.

He put the shotgun in the bullet hole riddled passenger seat of the equally as bullet hole riddled jeep and got in.

Putting a bandana around his mouth and nose, and bi-tech goggles over his eyes, he started up the jeep. From the sound of it, it was very much in a state of disrepair with the engine sounding like the screams of the damned and the bodywork looking almost ready to fall apart.

"I really shouldn't have driven through that sandstorm, at least Garm's crew are miracle workers." He smirked as he shifted from park to drive and planted his foot on the accelerator, sending the damaged jeep over the dunes rather haphazardly.

* * *

Four sand damaged buildings stood inside a walled compound. A tall building that dominated the place stood in the center. Attached to it was a short, but very wide building with the word 'Bar' carved into the concrete wall of it, a seperate building with locked gas pumps outside that seemed like a garage, and a black window tinted building that hid behind the bar and main building. The entire place was surrounded in a horrific sandstorm.

The jeep pulled into a park outside the tall building, and the man got out. With the shotgun in his left hand, and a large duffle bag over his shoulder, he kicked the door shut. He didn't bother locking it, since no one in their right mind would want to take the rust bucket it was.

He entered the tall building and shook off some sand from his clothes. Lifting the goggles onto the top of his head and pulling the bandana down off his face, he looked around. Inside it was aesthetically pleasing, to a degree for something out in the middle of the desert at least. Proper black carpet, walls that had the greyish paint on them still, and an actual desk at reception.

"This place is better than our safe houses after the renovations… perhaps I should do something about that..." he muttered, looking around with interest at the surprisingly intact building.

He walked to the reception desk, where an old man with cast iron plate over the left side of his skull that stopped just at the bottom of where his eye was, was sitting at the desk. The old man had dark grey hair on the half of his head that was revealed, and a silvery coloured long chinese master beard and mustache. He was wearing a name tag, it had in tar black block letters "Garm" and under it was "Owner" in gold writing, which looked rather nice on the dark red background of the tag.

"Evening Garm." The man said courteously, Garm however took no notice of him at all, the man sighed.

"You still mad about that poker bet you lost to me?"

Garm looked up with half scowl, "I lost $40K to you that day."

"Come on Garm, it was 5 months ago, you must have made it back by now." he groaned, then looked him in the eye, "Look I need somewhere to stay for the night because of the sandstorm but I can't leave to go anywhere else because my vehicle is about to fall apart."

Garm looked up from his book, then behind the guy out the window to look at the storm.

He sighed and put the book down, "How bad is the damage?"

The man stood up straight, "The passenger are rusted shut, looks like it lost a fight with 20 buzzsaw wielding maniacs and her engine sounds like someone opened a portal to hell right in the screaming banshee section."

Garm nodded, and grabbed a key from his drawer, "Room 60, M level. Your ride should be fixed by tomorrow."

The guy took out his agency key card and swiped it. The antithesis credits payment went through as Garm then handed him the key card to let power into the room, "I'm sure you remember the weapons ban around here. Leave your stuff in your apartment, and if anyone attacks you, it's a fist fight only. You are more than welcome to use furniture however, I can always replace that stuff."

He nodded, pocketing the card and the key.

"Heard one of your old friends and his SFO partner fucked up a recon mission of all things." Garm turned back to the book.

"Old friends?... This friend got a name?" He leaned on the desk.

"I think his name's Hank" Garm found his page.

The man nodded and stood up, walking behind Garm to the elevator "Who's the SFO then?"

"Some hard ass, don't know his name. Only that he took a number of bullets to the body and head, and lived, so he's kinda fucked in the head."

"Shit, hope Hank doesn't cop a bullet too. His face is a bit too pretty to be scarred by something like that." .

A rare smile graced Garm's own scarred visage as he glanced back to him.

"You haven't changed at all have you DJ?"

He turned slightly and returned the glance back to Garm, his own smile gone, "I have changed… just not how most people would think."

DJ entered the elevator, and pressed the button on the slightly dented panel. The doors closed with a soft metal grinding tone.

The doors reopened on his floor. The hallway on that floor was short, as the 13th floor contained only 4 rooms. Reserved those who were willing to pay full price, or were high ranking enough that they needed to be more secure during their stay.

Finding his room room, M60, he unlocked the door and entered the dark room. Taking the power card from his pocket, he deposited it in the slot in the wall, activating the lights and power to the apartment.

Closing the door behind him, he put his bag and shotgun down on the table, and sighed exhaustedly.

He removed the bandana from around his neck, then the Bi-tech goggles he had retrieved from a A.A.H.W engineer he smashed into a wall.

Next was the heavy black leather jacket that had seen better days, then the armored vest he wore that had the overlapping metal scale design that looked like black dragon scales. He put them on his bed next to his hidden special knife he took from the hidden jacket sheath.

What followed was pretty bad, the shirt he had on underneath hadn't been taken off for 5 months, and was pretty rank with bloodstains, sweatmarks and other unmentionable stains. The shirt was less a shirt and more a once white rag that he just ripped off with ease.

Taking the moment, he looked at himself in the mirror. He had definitely toned up since the last time he looked at himself, no longer that skinny 16 year old that first joined the anti, but this wasn't what he was looking at. He was looking at the progress of the scales on his body.

Last time he had checked, 6 months ago, the scales had just finished covering his right shoulder completely. Now, they were starting to spread onto his chest in vein like lines, on his back however they had spread to fill the gap between his shoulder blades over his spine.

"Fuck me… they're spreading fast…" he frowned.

He stripped completely after shaking the thoughts from his head, then hit the shower, trying to relax in the hot water he hadn't felt for what seemed like an eternity.

* * *

After spending a full hour washing up, he donned new casual clothes from his bag and put his boots back on, before heading to the elevator.

As he waited, he was wondered about how things were with Hank. He held a bit of regret for not saying his proper goodbyes with Hank, although the feeling was not mutual with the rest of the squad, given they shunned him after the promotion he had no say in. His mind wandered to his old mentor, he made his peace with what happened, and accepted it was what he had to do. War has no place for sentiment.

* * *

Garm looked up from his book 3 A.A.H.W agents came in, looking exhausted as fuck.

He looked back down to the book once more and sighed "You tried to go through the sandstorm didn't you?"

The leader of the three nodded, before going over to the desk, clearing his throat after the sand battering.

"Can… we get a room?"

Garm put the book down again after marking his page. "27 is ready. You got cash on you?"

The agent put $100 on the desk, Garm put it in the till drawer, gave him $20 back, then handed him the key and the power card.

The agent and his two companions went to the elevator, and reached the door just as DJ got there.

The youngest of all the agents, a rookie black shades, went for his gun immediately, but the leader of the three stopped him, "No gun zone. This is neutral ground." DJ walked past them, and entered the bar through another door, while the agents entered the elevator.

Garm looked at the clock on the wall above him, then stood up. He securely locked the doors leading outside with deadbolts before going into the bar.

The bar itself was large in size with easily a 200 person capacity, but had very few people in it. The janitor that worked part time between there and the AAHW outposts, DJ, Garm himself and Steve the blackjack dealer were the only people in there.

DJ was at the bar, eating the pistachio nuts, not even bothering to remove them from the shells. For some reason he was able to just eat them without any problem, he always summed it down to the experiment having a nice side effect for a change.

"You drinking tonight?" He asked, placing a glass on the bar.

"Sure. How about… Nikka single malt Yoichi? I heard Japanese whiskey is pretty good." He looked up from the nuts.

Garm nodded in agreement, "It is, that one specifically has a very good taste to it. Kind of bites the tongue."

DJ moved the nut bowl aside as Garm got the bottle and glass. Filling it only quarter way, DJ looked at it, then slowly drank. Garm poured himself one, and instead just swallowed it all in one go.

DJ blinked and shook his head a bit, "Yeah that's a bite alright. Woo…"

Garm smirked. "Now then, anything else?"

DJ shook his head, showing his mutated arm, "This moody bitch feeds off the alcohol, accelerating the speed of how fast it spreads. I want to stay as human as possible for as long as I can. But at the same time I enjoy whiskey too much to not try it. Oh woe is me." He finished with a mocking tone.

The lead agent entered the bar, he had taken off his tie, and his shades, he had also unbuttoned his suit, he sat next to DJ.

"Got any of that scotch left from my last visit?" He asked Garm, who nodded and poured him a glass from the rectangular bottle of dark green liquid.

The agent nodded thanks, then downed it fast.

DJ looked at him, "You look like hammered shit. You didn't try going through the storm did you Jason?"

The red shades agent 'Jason' looked to DJ, "I admit, it was foolish, but I just couldn't handle being around those damned zombies anymore. Their creepy."

DJ grinned, "Zombies? Creepy? That is SO unbelievable." he remarked sarcastically.

Jason smiled, "yeah, laugh it up, you may end up dealing with the fuckers soon enough…"

"That's true seeing the missions I get sent on" DJ replied, sliding the bowl of nuts to Jason.

The other two agents entered, the older of the two was also without tie or shades, but his suit was buttoned up, the youngest who nearly pulled his gun on DJ was in full uniform still.

The older one sat next to Jason, while the younger one went to the blackjack table. Garm served the agent the same thing as Jason.

DJ looked at them, "Recruits?"

Jason nodded, "Kinda of, Hardass here has been with us a while but is still a rookie really."

DJ raised an eyebrow, "Hardass?" Jason sighed, and pointed to the older one, "Hardass." Then he pointed to the younger one who just lost $75, "Dumbass. Leading these two is like babysitting the two ends of the ass spectrum."

DJ chuckled, then sighed, "I used to be in the same position… then the two rookies I was with thought they were ready and ignored my orders to stay put. They rushed into fray, and got torn apart by some real nasty shit. Can't say I miss them though, they never listened. Reminds me of two brothers I used to know…" He dropped off at the end, so Jason let it be.

The youngest agent finally came over, and looked at DJ with a scowl, "So, what's a freak like you doing here anyway?"

DJ blatantly ignored him, which just made him push harder.

"No one want's you anyway, whether we win or not, at the end of this you're going to be the shit that everyone leaves behind."

Jason sighed, " _I'll say something nice at his funeral maybe… although I doubt he will get that privilege..."_

DJ clenched his fists under the bar in annoyance.

"You know what? How about I take care of the problem for you so you don't suffer later, how does that sound hu…" The agent was cut off by a bullet to the head.

Garm had a Colt .357 in his hand, a light smoke trailed from the barrel.

"None of that bullshit belongs here, good thing you're dead because otherwise I would be making you pay for bleeding on my carpet."

The other agent was shocked at Garm's sudden kill, where as Jason and DJ seemed to expect it.

DJ sighed, trying to calm himself. "I think I better turn in for the night before I end up breaking something."

"Night." Jason waved goodbye as DJ got up.

Garm put his pager down, "The team is already working on your jeep, should be ready by 8 AM."

"Good, I need to get on the road as soon as possible." DJ walked to the door, as Steve pulled the headless corpse of the young agent out the back to put in the boiler fire.

~5 minutes later~

DJ crashed into bed, not even bothering to get undressed, he got under the soft covers and fell asleep within seconds, disregarding the young agent's blood now staining the white sheets.

His head ran through not dreams, nor nightmares, but his times with his squad back in the day, until his tired brain gave up on projecting images entirely.

* * *

A shadowy figure watched DJ through the window from the cliff it was on. Within seconds of DJ falling asleep it disappeared, burning the dead bushlife and a few lizards to nothing in seconds as it dissipated into the air.

" _ **Soon… Everything will fall into place. And we will be standing atop the ruins of both agencies with the world at our feet…"**_ A deep voice remarked quietly as the burning ceased.

* * *

Ok, this is the first chapter in a story I have planned for a while now. This chapter alone I re-wrote several times, and proofread even more than that.

This is of course a rewrite as well once again. I have more time to be able to write over weekends now so this will become a much more active story with hope. That and with Spirit and potentially Alias helping me out this can be a great story.

Please leave a review if you can, it would really help. Thanks everyone

~L. Hammersmith


	2. Chapter 2: Blood

Chapter 2: Blood

Sand battered against the bulletproof glass, like violent hailstones against corrugated iron.

This was the first sound that broke DJ's sleep, as it reverberated in his ears. Pulling himself up slowly from underneath the faintly bloodstained sheets that covered him, DJ reached out for the lamp next to the bed.

 _Click._

The mirror in the corner of the room invited his tired gaze.

Once again, the scales on his body had advanced and grown. They had reached the top of his neck on his right side, and were under his hairline now.

The right arm he had mutated from the start appeared very much the same. However upon closer inspection, the scales appeared to be more defined than before, boasting a thicker look to each scale. This however appeared to have increased the weight of the scales, as DJ discovered it was a little bit more of an effort to move the arm about to look at it properly.

Sharp talons had appeared where his nails once were, their dark silver colouration glinting softly in the faint lamplight. They appeared to be retractable, as DJ tested this out a few times, discovering the retracted talons looked like regular fingernails.

"Damn… looks like those extra drinks last night kinda did the trick. No wonder I was actually able to sleep through this… I don't even want to think about how painful it would have been."

DJ groaned as the sun's first rays dancing across his eyelids. He had grown used to sleepless nights and weary, daytime patrols. A full night's sleep left his body feeling sluggish, yet refreshed-drowsily alert. With a grunt of effort, DJ sat up, the bedsheets reluctantly sliding off his shoulders. Wandering over to the bathroom, he turned on the hot water in the shower and searched through the cabinets for towels. After removing the now faintly bloodstained clothes from last night, he entered the shower. DJ savoured that feeling of the nearly boiling hot water running over his back, loosening up his still tense body and reminding him what it felt like to actually be clean.

Figuring that his half hour long shower was enough, DJ got out and dressed into some non-combat seen clothes. Picking a white t-shirt and blue jeans from his bag, he discarded his dirtied ones in the large duffel bag's side pocket before heading downstairs, leaving his gear behind in the room and making sure to take the card with him.

* * *

"If his forces are united, separate them..." Garm muttered, making a subtle joke to himself about separating the numbers as he updated the business ledger at the front desk, moving some numbers to another identical book sitting next to the first.

DJ came out of the elevator and approached the desk, still looking tired as he leaned on it.

"Morning Garm. Is your gun guy in today?"

Garm looked up from his ledger. "Yeah, he's in. Out the back in that store of his, as usual."

DJ nodded and exited. He went out the rear of the complex, covering his face as he went to the smaller building attached to the back.

Entering and quickly closing the door, he scanned the room and its contents. The room was lined to the roof with small arms sitting on display racks, with the larger ones behind the large counter. Sitting behind the counter was a rather slim yet broad shouldered man, filing what appeared to be the end of a shotgun barrel. Approaching the counter, the man looked up from his work.

"Morning," the man spoke, with an accent that DJ felt was familiar, but couldn't recognize.

"Hey," DJ gestured to the shotgun being worked on. "I see my shotgun is coming along well."

The gunsmith had finished his filing of the barrel muzzle, blowing away the metal filings. He had chiseled sharp teeth to the end, seemingly with the intent of making it a more lethal close-quarters weapon.

"Yeah, she's coming along fine mate. Why you choose to have a lever action is beyond me. Automatic's are where it's at now, man."

DJ took a Sig 22 from the wall, inspecting it. "Automatics are shit for rounds though. This old thing can take in just about any shot I need it to."

The man took the gun out of the vice and gave its reloading mechanism a test, before nodding in agreement. "I removed and replaced the firing pin and the reloading lever with an easy grip to make it faster. Should be smoother and have less chance of misfire, now that it doesn't look like it got dragged through the sand."

He opened the firing chamber with the lever, then closed it again as to show the result. He placed the shotgun down on the counter and went to a crate behind him as DJ came over after placing the Sig back. The gunsmith removed the crate's contents: a rather obscene looking M16 DJ had 'obtained' from his previous mission and two sets of handguns.

"How you found this thing I don't know and don't want to know, but it's a real piece of work," he remarked, placing it down on the counter with care. "I changed out the firing pin, it was made of brass and looked like it was about to bust."

He then put a pouch onto the counter next to it; the pouch had a suspicious 'Property of US Ranger 13th Division' badge on the side.

"The grenades this thing fires from the underslung are a special thing from the old conspiracy days of the US military, so I _found_ some more."

He put a rather large double drum magazine on the counter with a thick and heavy _clunk_ ; thankfully the counter was quite big to fit all of this.

"These magazines… I won't lie, they scare me. 100 rounds in each. Side-by-side drum formation with interlocking feed system. That's 200 rounds before you have to reload and the whole thing is made of carbon fiber, so it weighs only as much as the bullet themselves."

He assembled the rifle for DJ all the while being careful, especially with the grenades. "I feel sorry for anyone caught downrange of this beast."

DJ smirked, leaning back on a rack. "Don't. Anyone caught downrange of _El Cancer_ here is usually too dead to feel the pain. Now then, what about my sidearms?"

The gunsmith nodded and turned his attention to the handgun set's; one set were M1911's and the others were Automag V's.

He chuckled a little to himself, before picking up the twin belt holster. "I think I get why you're called 'The Walking Armory,' you crazy bastard."

"The M1911's simply needed a tune up, they're much cleaner now. I took care of them as you told me to in the past. Told me this was your first assigned pistol back in your trainee days after all."

Nostalgia hit him in waves as he picked up the black one out of its holster. "My first gun was this one. Named the pair after the loveable fuckwitts I was assigned to that I lost on the mission I got El Cancer."

DJ noted the black one. "Leroy…"

He then picked up the white bodied, chrome plated one.

"... and Jenkins."

DJ put them back down in their holsters, facing the gunsmith again. "As for my larger ones?"

The gunsmith moved the Colt's aside and placed the thigh-holstered guns at the front. "You have a fine taste in shit that blows heads to bits, I'll say that. Your Automag's are fine tools of the trade, but you had pieces of flesh stuck in them. I have no clue how, but try avoiding that so you won't have the ammunition blow up in your face."

DJ grimaced; he had run out of bullets and had shoved the barrel so deep into a poor Agent's head that the brain matter had lodged in the gun itself. Not the fondest of memories...

Picking up each weapon, he placed them in another duffle bag the man gave him with quite a fair amount of ammunition for each. The gunsmith finally moved onto DJ's prize possession: his black carbon sword.

"Beats me what this thing's made out of, but judging by the quality, I assumed it's some sort of special shit. Just needed a good sharpening."

He put it back in its sheath and handed it over to DJ, who added it to the duffle bag. "As per usual with clientele, thank you for using my services, and have a nice day."

He sat back on his chair, looking down behind the counter. DJ picked up the bag.

"I would thank you personally but I still do not know your name."

The gunsmith looked up at him again. "Call me what you will. But if you insist, name's Murry."

"Thank you then, Murry. Have a good day."

DJ left, quickly opening and closing the door as to not let sand get blown in.

Re-entering the complex with the bag, he went back up the elevator.

He took note that Garm had left his post, which meant he could take the bag up without any issues regarding its rather lethal contents.

Arriving back at his room, he entered the surprisingly now cleaned bedroom. Evidently Garm had been by to clean the room.

Walking into the room past the table, DJ put the bag down on the bed, being careful not to damage the contents.

Opening his own duffle bag he brought with him on the table, he pulled out what appeared to be a solid MRE bar, deciding that it would be better if he just ate that instead of waiting for food downstairs.

He opened the packet and took a bite from the dry, somewhat unappealing contents. It was supposedly meant to be apple-cinnamon, but really it tasted more like too much sugar and a little bit of spice.

He contemplated getting rid of it when he reminded himself that he was the one who bought it, and that would be a waste.

Taking another bite, he finally decided to put the rest down. Casually munching on the piece as he took out his gear, he donned his jet black scaled metal/kevlar vest over top of the white shirt. The metal ID tag with _X13_ written on it gleamed softly in the lamp light, showing the several scars and scratches across the tags surface.

Looking over at the hamper with the blood stained and ruined clothes, he approached the linen lined basket.

Deciding that it would be best to throw the whole thing away, given how difficult getting blood stains out of white can be, he took the hamper out into the hallway, and dumped it down the trash chute, clothes and all.

Returning to his room, he swapped out his red Bi-Techs that were sitting on the table with some A.A.H.W styled shades, but with a dark blue tinge in the terminator shades style instead of the usual red.

He stuffed the other items in this bag and put it on the ground as he turned to the other one.

Picking it up and putting it on the chair, he unloaded the weapons onto the table

Putting on the holsters, the M1911's at the hip and the Automag's to his thighs,

he got to his rather unique knife, and paused.

The knife was styled like a Bowie Knife, but it was made out of black obsidian, and was sharper than even his iconic sword from lack of use but insane care regime he implemented for it. He remembered all too well how he came across having the rather unique knife like it was yesterday...

* * *

 **Outpost Dead**

 **04:00**

* * *

"Move your ass or hand it over to them, Anderson!" The young operative's commanding officer, Wolf, ordered.

The youth quickly left his exposed position, sliding across the polished floor to the cover of the upturned table. The cafeteria had become a massive cover-filled battlefield, littered with shell casings. A few disabled operatives spasmed in agony on the ground; while the bullets weren't actually live, the electric shocks they released on impact were _extremely_ painful.

Ditching his spent SMG, he procured a FAL rifle laying next to one of his disabled comrades, pulling back the heavy bolt. Hearing a break in the sound of static emanating from the dummy rounds' impact, he hefted the rifle and himself above the table. He quickly identified the targets before planting shots in both of them, sending them to the floor tazed.

Taking cover again, he sent the empty magazine flying across the room with a metallic _clang_ as it hit the floor, fishing another one from his disabled and clearly peeved comrade.

Wolf discarded the loose magazine in his AK74. He started scavenging what supplies he could from the now disabled operatives around the cafeteria. "Cutting it close Anderson, but none the less, you took them down clean. Nice shots."

Only DJ, his leading officer and his female squad member were active; the techie, Hanz's, cockiness resulted in him taking a bullet at the start of the skirmish.

"Sorry Hanz, you're out for this mission. Next time don't stick your fucking head out." Wolf remarked, casting the downed teammate a disappointed glare before going over to the door and checking for any opposition.

DJ covered the door from the front, ignoring the muttering rants of his fallen and paralysed comrade as he left. He followed up his female comrade, who took point with her shotgun as Wolf gave them the all clear.

Wolf closed the door behind them. "Keep your eyes peeled. PDA still shows that squads Manovai and Shadow Storm are still active."

They came to a heavily reinforced door at the end of the hallway, with a faint fluorescent bulb lighting up a sign labeled: _'Armory.'_

"Red, you know what to do," Wolf remarked to the female comrade.

Red passed her shotgun to DJ and punched the door quite hard. This action solicited shouting from the team on other side. Whether it was Manovai or Shadow Storm, would decide if Red would be eliminated here or not.

As soon as the door was down from the second hit, she took a rather hard shot from what sounded like a high caliber rifle. Her armor crumpled from the impact; had she not been wearing it, the shot would have killed her regardless.

Manovai; the sniper specialization squad.

The fifty-fifty shot was not in their favor.

DJ pulled Red out of danger. Wolf turned to him.

"Alright, Mr. Tactics. Got any muscle in your brain to get us out of this, or is all of it in that arm of yours?"

Looking around, there really was no other conventional way in from this side, as the armory had been designed as a 'Last Stand' point when the place was built.

"Nope. This armory was designed as a last-stand point when the place was built. Only way in from here is through the door... unless you want to try the dodgy air vent."

Wolf grunted as a shot grazed the door frame next to him, sending shards of plaster and concrete flying. "DJ, I wanted a solution, not a goddamn progress report!"

DJ gave it a think, before remembering a quote from a game he used to play before the war.

" _Think around the battlefield."_

He chucked the FAL to the Wolf, and charged his fist. "Here. Hold my gun."

"The flying fuck are you doing Anderson?! They aren't close enough for that!"

"So, let's make them close. Mind giving me some cover, Wolf?"

He nodded, firing his AK around the corner. The Manovai team ducked for cover, giving DJ the opportunity to bust through the wall connecting the hallway to the bathroom. A useful thing that he had learned when he got here was that the facility was very symmetrical, as was the room layout.

Wolf rolled across to the other side of the door frame, dodging a few pistol shots during his maneuver.

"Mind hurrying the fuck up?!"

DJ charged up again; feeling silent appreciation for investing into the Class A Endurants during his training.

His wallet didn't share the same sentiments, however...

Wolf's shoulder went numb from a stray round. He growled, returning the favor by supplying one of the Manovai members with a lucky headshot.

"DJ!"

The final wall between DJ and his opposition was before him; one more charge and…

 _ **FFPT!**_

DJ groaned from the impact; a round had hit him square in the shoulder. It apparently didn't penetrate the scales, but it weakened his arm visibly upon impact. Guess the rumors about Manovai slamming the Class B Awareants were true after all...

He shook off the numbness as best he could and resumed for a slower, but equally powerful charge. Leaning back and slamming his fist into the thin plaster and concrete wall sent debris flying in all directions, sending Manovai scrambling for cover.

DJ drew his Five-Seven and fired at the team with limited results; the dust clouded the room lightly, and the knocked over empty weapon racks didn't help the traverse.

Wolf however, came in for the save, gunning down the two remaining younger operatives and their leader with DJ's FAL. As the team laid unable to move, Wolf came in and checked on an exhausted DJ, who was downing an unmarked canister of something.

He went to the back to scrounge up more ammunition. "Nice work. Just Shadow left. Take a breather then see what you can find off of them."

DJ only panted in response. The frequent use of his Smash ability had left him quite exhausted, and the ricocheted shot off his shoulder didn't make things any easier. He sighed, moved his "KDED News" hoodie to make it rub less against the injury, and stood up. Discarding the blank and now empty can, he moved to the disabled team to recover what he could:

Two Five-Seven clips, a TAC-50 with 1 round, a bottle of Class-B Stratigents and… a condom?

Discarding the last item and moving on out the back of the armory, he met up with a rather relaxed Wolf. The commanding officer had recovered from the shot and was already back to smoking his cigars. Something about whatever experiment he was part of had led to him being immune to the "Devil's Mark" that smoking brought.

"You ready to hunt down the last team yet?" He questioned, taking a long drag on his cigar and breathing out the thick smoke.

"Yep." DJ got his FAL back and slung the sniper rifle over his shoulder, pulling back the bolt and readying himself in case the final squad was behind the door.

Wolf opened said secondary exit door to a hallway that had a few disabled operatives littering the floor, groaning. Working around them and making their way to the final room of the facility, they readied themselves for a perhaps long range fight.

"Here, I found 10 more rounds for the sniper. The loading bay is very open so pick your shots wisely. Every bullet counts. Remember what I taught you." Wolf handed 2 stripper clips of heavy caliber rounds to DJ, who pocketed the spare clips. "Just as water retains no constant shape, so in warfare there are no constant conditions. They could be right behind the door."

Opening the iridium door with a loud metal on metal grinding noise, both Wolf and DJ ran for cover behind some crates, as they were already taking fire from the three assault team members.

"Give up already, Wolf! Those million credits are mine and you know it!" The leader of the squad yelled, taking more shots.

"Fuck off! I intend to keep my money! I saved it up for a reason!" Wolf shouted back. He peered over the crates before taking cover again and looking to DJ. "Well, they have us pinned. No way we can get a shot on them from this ang… the fuck are you doing?"

Wolf frowned while watching DJ, who had pried a hole open in the crate. DJ had hit the tactical jackpot:

Smoke grenades.

"Shit, this is gonna come out of my pay… Those grenades are expensive, you know. Don't waste too many of them on a training exercise!" Wolf warned, flinching as a bullet hit just behind his head.

DJ removed the pin and rolled it across the debris littered loading bay floor, releasing the dense red smoke into the open area. Moving quickly, DJ got a better angle on the ground behind a larger crate, aiming and taking down the youngest of the Shadow team members quickly with the 'procured' sniper rifle.

The same deafening boom from before echoed in the loading bay, as the youngest of Shadow squad took the shot hard in the shoulder, giving DJ enough time to load the stripper clip of 5 rounds into the heavy sniper.

"Good shot! Two more and that's a wrap!" Wolf lowered his head into cover as the top splintered with a rather loud _CRACK._

DJ rolled another grenade into the smoke of the now slowly fading first, unleashing an equally dense purple smoke into the red.

"If they wanna play that way…" Shadow team's leader said, gritting his teeth. He ripped the pin from his own strange blue grenade and tossed it overhead.

The grenade landed next to Wolf, who glanced over it. Immediately realizing what it was, he accepted his fate just as the casing ripped open.

There was no escaping an EMP grenade.

An electronic burst flooded out, stunning and paralysing Wolf. DJ just gripped his gun tightly; he didn't need to turn around to know the now shitshow he was in now.

Two on one.

"You're done, kid!" Shadow's younger operative shouted; he had what appeared to be a mechanical eye, which seemed to act as an aiming device.

DJ was coming up with a plan, when he remembered a little trick he had discovered while pissing around with his fist one day in training, which enabled him to unleash electricity from his punches.

Figuring this was his chance to even the playing field, he laid down the sniper and battle rifle.

Making his bold move, he bolted out from behind his cover and ran to one of the platforms metal support beams.

Spotting DJ's actions, Shadows leader made a hasty retreat off the platform.

His operative was not so lucky.

As soon as DJ's fist made contact with the metal supports, the entire platform lit up like a christmas poor operative was shocked into submission, causing him to fall unconscious.

Quickly retreating before he could be shot, DJ made it back behind his crate. Panting from the exertion, he was left with a harsh truth. If he didn't end it now he would most likely lose from passing out.

Grabbing the sniper, he leveled it with the crate and looked for the team's leader. He had already taken a much better position up top, and had already taken aim at DJ.

The two stared at each other through their scopes for a few seconds before Shadows leader fired a shot, causing DJ to duck behind the crate again.

"Hiding forever won't get you a victory." He remarked as he reloaded, a chance to attack that DJ sorely missed.

Figuring it was a do or die situation, DJ did something quite strange. He ripped the scope off the rifle and ran out from behind the crate, taking a wild shot at the experienced agent up top.

The shot was a miss but the move confused the older agent, who aimed and fired, missing only barely.

DJ suddenly stopped and looked down the small iron sight on the top of the rifle, only now revealing his plan:

He had run to a position where his aim was perfect, and because of the angle the older agent could only run towards him, as there was no other way off the platform.

"Well shit…" The squad leader muttered, staring down the barrel of his inevitable fate.

DJ fired his shot and knocked the older man back off his feet, who was still in awe at what had just transpired.

A rather loud automated female voice came over the intercom, _"Simulation over, Blood Pack Squad wins."_

The defeated squads around the facility got up slowly as the constant non-lethal numbing shocks deactivated. Some had taken harder hits than others after all.

Wolf got up as well, clicking his shoulder back into place as the rather forceful blast from the grenade had displaced it.

"Nicely done, looks like you get the reward for this one." He removed a rather unique looking knife from his hip mounted ammo bag, and passed it to DJ as he came over.

DJ looked at the strange yet wonderful dagger. It was not made of metal, yet appeared very sharp and subtly beautiful.

"My obsidian knife. Black obsidian taken from a raided A.A.H.W R&D lab. Something those fuckers did made it stronger than most steel. It is special though, so take care of it."

"Now then…" Wolf looked to Shadow's leader grinning.

"Hey Markus, mind if I collect my credits?" He grinned, getting a groan of disapproval from Shadows humiliated leader as he came down from the platform. A kill tally of nearly 4,000 agents, and he got taken down by a junior agent who exploited a distancing issue.

Chances were that he would never live this down.

DJ took one last look at the knife before pocketing it carefully. Picking up the weapons he acquired during the exercise he headed back to his room, moving his shoulder around as it was still sore from the snipers impact.

* * *

The silence had broken him from his memories. It appeared that the ambient thudding from the sandstorm had stopped and the blistering Nevadian sun had returned.

Gathering his things and putting the knife in its hidden sheath at his back, he picked up both of the heavy bags.

Slinging the bags over his back and checking the room to make sure nothing was left behind, he grabbed the keycard from the power slot and locked the door on the way out.

As he left, he encountered the 'Kissass', Mr terminator shades, walking down the hall to the elevator with him.

Entering the elevator, DJ glanced over to him, lifting his dark purple terminator shades onto his forehead.

"Morning" DJ said cheerfully, the agent nodded and yawned in return, he was evidently not an early riser.

Once at the lobby, DJ went to the desk as the agent went inside the other room off to the side that had "Cafeteria" above the door. He strapped the bags over his back in a crossed formation to free up his hands, giving the card to Garm, who had apparently finally finished his book and started on a new one.

"Hey, you gonna read that again?" DJ asked pointing to it.

"Nope. I'm done with it now. You want it or something?" Garm picked it up and put it on the desk, "You can have it."

"Thanks." DJ smiled and added it to one of the bags.

"Alright, oh yeah, this came for you. Western Division SFO, didn't catch his name." Garm fished a large envelope out of his desk, handing it to DJ.

DJ drew his knife and opened the top of it, drawing out its contents.

"It details about recent events needing urgent attention. As a result, I have been issued with a promotion to Senior Field Operative and have been ordered to investigate disturbances, then report to the eastern division instead of returning back home west." DJ skimmed through it.

"Congratulations. Don't let it go to your head." Garm mused.

DJ smirked, putting the letter inside the non-weapon bag. "Pfft, it's just a title with a few perks, I'm still gonna be sent on the same suicide missions I always am."

Giving a last smile, Garm sighed, apparently tired. "Stay safe out there. I intend to make my money back." Garm remarked smirking.

DJ smiled and dropped his shades back over his eyes, heading outside to the now repaired jeep.

Garm had quite the repair crew on hand, being able to do miracle repairs in overnight sessions, but no one had even seen their faces, only staff anyone ever saw was Steve.

Packing the bags into the back and closing the tailgate, he got in the vehicle and started it after a few attempts. Its age was still a factor, as it was outdated by the newer vehicles by nearly 4 years.

While putting it into gear, something on the clifftop caught his eye.

A dark shadow on the cliffside above seemed out of place, but DJ shrugged it off.

Weirder shit had happened before, a shadow was the least of his worries. For all he knew it was his old CO back during the Madness squad days lurking around.

" _ **That was close Devus. If he figured out that we are more than just shadows…"**_ One voice remarked in a mild but young tone.

" _ **He won't. Trust me Zai. The man is quite ignorant."**_ A second voice replied, this one deep and almost angry in its tone.

" _ **Shush. Don't talk about him like that. You'll piss off Pavel, and then we will both be in the shit."**_ The first retorted, hissing in a slight fear of a third unknown, evidently named Pavel.

" _ **Pavel won't find out. The man's blood father already gave us the information we need."**_

" _ **You sure we can trust this outside source? He may work in the engineer department, but he could just be trying to…"**_

" _ **Enough. The information is good, and we can trust him. As infuriating as he is to work with, Derek Jameson has not betrayed us ever. I see no reason to believe he would now."**_

" _ **Your legally blind Devus."**_

" _ **...Fuck off."**_

The two beings faded away, leaving the sand where they stood glassed over and a few dead desert shrubs burnt to ash instantly.

* * *

A/N: Ok, that kicks off another chapter. But before I go into anything else, I have a few words to say.

First of all: A massive thank you to Spirit9871 and Alias Maxima for assisting with the production and for beta-reading this chapter and future ones. Not only has this improved the content, but it has helped me on a personal level by giving me that little bit of hope that someday my content will be decent enough for people to enjoy reading. (I may sound like I'm just belittling myself but ignore that, it's not like that.)

Now this chapter is not yet finished with revision, as Spirit is busy with reformatting the Madness discord and I am going away for military training quite literally tomorrow, so chapters 2 and 3 are just gonna be posted in the mean time to fill the quite long time gap. A rewrite of Chapter 1 will be in development when I return sometime between the 20th and the 25th of January.

Cheers everyone who supports this and hope everyone had a good christmas.

Stay zesty my dudes, and don't forget to blow on the pie.

~TDMD


	3. Chapter 3: Steel

Chapter 3: Steel

"Your mission is simple. Recon the base and find out what they are doing there. It's a small outpost but intel suggests that it could be a front for something much bigger," the informant explained in a hushed whisper.

DJ and the informant, an Eastern Division Operative, had met up in a tiny run down diner. While it only had a few people in it, and no one of any level of respect, that did not however mean that they could talk openly.

Any one of these seemingly low lifes could be working for the AAHW.

"Recon? Isn't that a bit vague? What exactly am I-"

DJ stopped talking as the waitress walks past their table.

"You'll figure it out when you get there. It's a Red Zone place. Those shouldn't be hard to guess, right?" He downs the coffee, twisting his face in disgust soon after. "Fucking Hell, half of this has to be that instant garbage. That, or literal dirt."

DJ visibly gritted his teeth, "Red Zone is nothing but experiments, prisoners, slaves and comm centers. That's all shit I've dealt with before." He said, voice rising slightly. "I'm asking about the _mission_ , not where I'm heading."

The man wore a stare that seems almost piteous in nature. It faded as soon as it came.

"We have reason to believe that a unit dubbed 'G-O-L-3-M' is being tested there. Pronounced 'Golem,' we would assume. But otherwise, we have no clue what it is. That's where you come in. Get in there and find out what you can. Oh, you're gonna be blowing up the place too. Probably should have mentioned that soo-"

"You're fucking with me. That sounds like a lot more than just 'recon!'"

"Okay, calm down. If your voice gets any louder, the whole diner's gonna be a part of our conversation." The man takes another sip of his mug, his expression of repulsion returning for a split-second. "Look, I'm just the messenger, alright? Says recon on the file, so I told you it's recon. You want me to start pulling explanations out of my ass or what?"

"I'd prefer a _name_ of whoever sent you then. They must be out of their damn mind because I haven't even seen this place before in my life, and I pretty much live out there because of the missions I've done."

"I can't say who, but I'd put my money on it being someone important, seeing as how you're expected to head East after this."

DJ pondered for a moment, before one name popped to mind.

 _Hanne._

So that's how it is.

DJ stood up from his booth seat. "A final test, huh?"

"If it makes the pressure any easier to handle, think of it as your first-class ticket to the Eastern Division. Except your ticket is made out of whatever rubble you leave behind of that place when you're done." The man pours another cup for himself. "Simple shit, like this coffee."

* * *

DJ exited the diner. Once he got in his jeep, he quickly left town. With not much to look at beside some battle scarred buildings, it seemed that the town remained a haven in the the war around it. Following the road to the Red Zone, he came to a larger town, passing by a school. Then an orphanage; one that was burnt down long ago by a gas fire.

At least, that's what the authorities had said.

A few memories of his childhood and studies came to light from the scenery, but not much else of importance. He passed through the town to his last stop: an old warehouse. It stood deserted relative to the rest of the neighborhood, just like how he remembered it being. A shining beacon amidst the surrounding darkness of gang warfare.

Home.

He pulled into the warehouse, parking out back behind the dumpsters. A smile formed on DJ's face as a familiar figure approached him.

"Putain! Good to see your still alive."

Putain grinned, now an older man balding with light grey hair yet with the same pale green eyes. He had a few scars covering his surprisingly younger-looking face, but his most prominent feature was the lack of a left arm. The two embraced.

"It is good to see you DJ. Been a long time yes?"

He had a subtle undertone, but it was nearly unidentifiable. DJ parted the embrace.

"Three years. Maybe four now."

Putain chuckled, taking a step back. At this distance, DJ could clearly see the .357 Colt revolver and the modestly padded kevlar vest his old friend wore.

"I got the gun you were looking for. Specially crafted."

DJ opened the tailgate and pulled out a moderately-sized weapon box. Putain took it from him and placed it on a crate next to the jeep. Opening it revealed a Luger PO8 that appears to be plated with a light-absorbing metal and was much bigger than a standard Luger, although the silencer added to that size massively.

Putain lifted it, investigating the inscription on its side closely. " _In Kriegszeiten ist Diskretion geboten_?"

"In times of war, discretion is advised." DJ replied, smiling. "It's also chambered to fire .45 ACP instead of the 9mm. Cause it hurts more."

He walked over to Putain and put a hand on the old man's back. "You helped me out and taught me the ways of silence, and its counterways of violence. You helped me when no one else would, and you never gave up no matter how much I bitched. This is my way of saying thanks."

Putain grinned. "Well, you just made this old man's day. You're like a son to me, I could never leave you. The day you joined the Anti, I was thrilled!"

DJ frowned. "Wait, how did you…"

"Just cause I'm old doesn't mean I'm not useful. The homeless are great spies you know and I run the info business around here." Putain lead him inside, holding the case with the gun tightly as they walked to a makeshift table. "While the AAHW trades workspace for us to be in, the Anti trades me information. I ask a question as payment and they answer. First one I had was about you."

He put the case on the table and sat down with a groan from his older joints moving.

"Ha! Still being a sneaky old codger are you?" DJ said as he sat across from him.

"Not anymore. I got people to do that for me. The warehouse used to be where we squatted, but now I got the money from the AAHW paying me off to keep my mouth shut." He pulled a flask from the torn jacket he wore. "Course all the info I had then is useless by now, but still. It's very profitable and safe to be a neutral party."

Putain took a long swig from the flask.

"Then you know what I am here for already then."

"Info, I'd imagine?"

"On something called a 'Golem.' New sort of experimental unit the AAHW is making or something."

Putain frowned. The atmosphere of the room changed almost as quickly.

"You're better off not doing this mission, Anderson."

"Command says it needs to be done. Recon or something."

Before Putain could get up from his seat, DJ stood up himself, cutting him off from any route of escape.

"I only got a name from the briefing, Putain. You'd be putting me in more danger by _not_ telling me what I need to hear."

Putain sighed, resting himself back on his chair. "You sure you want to do this mission?"

"It's my last one before I'm reassigned to the Eastern Division." DJ sat back down. "I'd prefer to walk in there with a good track record. Not as a coward."

"They sending you to Hanne? Jebus… you're not wrong about needing the 'good track record' then. Hell, he's probably the one who assigned you this. Always putting the roughest missions on the new ones..." Putain leaned forward. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

DJ pulled out a small pocketbook and a pen. "Where are they?"

"Red Zone Sector 2, right next to the fences. One of my guys was taking a piss near the area and saw, as I quote from him, 'a big guy with a disfigured head.' He… or _it_ , was wearing a grey suit of metal armor, carrying huge crates in the loading bay."

DJ noted it down. "Defences?"

"Weak. It's supposed to look like an admin building. A few guards, that's about it."

"Entrances?"

"Unless you want to get shot on-sight, you're going to need a disguise. That, or dig or climb. Fence itself seems too rickety for it to be charged electrically. Might be wrong though, so don't take my word for it."

"Anything else?"

"Take nothing with you."

 _Nothing?_

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" DJ asked.

"I'm saying that you're going to probably going to lose your belongings, so unless you want to cry about it later on, go in with _nothing_. If push comes to shove, scavenge like I taught you."

"What about if things get messy? I'm supposed to blow up the building!"

"I thought you said you were just doing recon?"

"I thought that too."

Putain raised an eyebrow before shaking his head in defeat. "The building has an internal generator that runs on diesel. Set it on fire."

DJ looked skeptical, this was very specific information regarding the building. He never doubted Putain's skill to find information, but this was too accurate... "How the hell do you know that?"

Putain smiled warmly. "The Anti aren't the only ones who trade me information you know. Besides, I conscripted a few guys to work there who tell me these things."

DJ thought for a moment. It was plausible… Wait. Putain never let his guys work for anyone else, period. "If your going to lie to me, at least put in some effort. I can catch you out way too easily if you say shit like that."

Putain sighed. "That's a shame. That's a real damn shame, you know that?"

He pulled his gun on DJ, who had reacted by pulling out his own M1911's. "As family as I consider you, the AAHW has done more for me than the Anti. I'm part of their information division now, and that building is where I go to work when I'm not here."

DJ suppressed a feral growl. This was a whole new level of betrayal.

"But… you are still more of a son to me than whatever scum my own one has become by joining the Nevada Saints."

He holstered his gun, causing DJ to lower his slightly. Putain stood up.

"I can't kill someone who was willing to deal with my demands. Especially if that someone's like my own son."

He looked at DJ, shrugging. "You can kill me if you wish."

DJ contemplated the choice for a moment. "You have no idea what you've just done, do you? Frankly, there's nothing stopping me from blasting your eyes out of your fucking head right now."

"Indeed there isn't. I know exactly what I did." He smiled. "I'll be looking forward to the consequences. Whenever they may come."

DJ sighed, holstering his own weapons. "All these years must've made you lose your goddamn mind, old man."

"Implying I hadn't already lost it before then? I'm flattered." Putain took his seat again, cocking his head towards the door. "Get moving. Consider this encounter as a warning for what to come."

"I'll keep that in mind." DJ started up his jeep. "Get out of your deal while you can. Else the next time we meet…"

"You've got enough to worry about on your own." Putain grinned. "I've been around longer than you have, don't worry. Go."

In silence, DJ went back to the jeep, closing the tailgate then getting in the driver's seat. He pulled out of the warehouse back onto the road, once again driving out of the town going east. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could.

"I'm asking you to stay around a little longer, old man… "

* * *

DJ had pulled off the road to a full stop. He looked at the digital clock attached to the dashboard. Three hours had passed since his last stop; there was no turning back now.

The fenced outline of the Red Zone was clear from this distance, as well as his target building. Getting into the back, he decided to wait till the sun went down before attempting anything, given the lack of any specific information.

He opened a trap door compartment underneath the floor of the jeep's back. Inside was a mini fridge that he had installed, connected to the battery. It was his idea of "staying frosty" when he needed to stick around for awhile.

Inside the deceptively large fridge was a few assorted cans of various drinks; some were more popular brands, while others were… questionable. He however, had a metal flask from the back of the fridge that he reached for instead.

"Ah, mysterious mix. You're a godsend in the form of powder and water."

Deep gulps soothed his nerves, cooling him off. It was the only thing both his tastebuds and the lab agreed was good for him.

Closing the lid and putting it aside, he watched the light begin to fade from the sky. His mind reeled back to memories of times past, eyelids sinking with the sun.

* * *

"You could be training, you know."

DJ glanced back and saw Outpost Dead's quartermaster behind him. The roof of the outpost was flat and wide, offering a pretty good view of the surrounding area.

"Yeah, but I just got off a six hour exercise five minutes ago." He replied to the long, black haired woman.

She came over next to him and sat down. "Let me guess. Shooting for three hours, CQC with the BOT's for two, and standard gym shit for the last hour?"

"Yep. Wolf loves his time orders in sequence," DJ mused, taking a swig from the Nev-Alcohol can.

The quartermaster did a double take. "Isn't 16 a bit young to be drinking?"

DJ gave her a wide grin. "Not where I come from. So long as you have legal guardian's permission at least. No 'legal guardians' here in the Anti, eh?"

The concern didn't vanish from the quartermaster's face. DJ put the can down and looked her dead in the eye.

"Alright, look. You keep me and my drinking a secret, and I won't tell Wolf that you've been making off with his cigars every other week. Deal?"

"Wha-? How did you know?!"

"Come on. You smell like a tobacco dry room. Noticed you've been keeping your distance from Wolf too." DJ looked at her once more, still grinning. "Should've been avoiding me too while you were at it, huh?"

"Clearly." She sighed. "Damn… now I need a drink."

DJ fished out an extra can from his jacket's pocket. "Neat jacket, huh? Tons of pockets and everything."

"Just give me the beer."

He tossed her the can. She cracked it open and took a heavy swig, wiping the beer foam from her lips. "Where'd you get that anyway? Last I knew, you were wearing that Dead Rising hoodie all the time."

"Snagged it off a AAHW convoy. I guess the engineer that I scared shitless then killed planned to wear it instead of the trench coat." DJ finished the can and crushed it with his mutated hand into a nearly perfect flat disk. He pulled out a third beverage. "Them things look cool and are great for shit, but they can get fucking heavy."

"Fair enough. Hey kid?"

"Yeah?"

Her expression turned grim as she stared off into the distance. "Don't lose that personality of yours."

"Huh?"

The quartermaster straightened her back, still avoiding his gaze.

"You know Kyle?"

"Who?"

"An agent the higher ups wanted no one to remember. Betrayed Antithesis as a spy for the AAHW." One of her fists tightened. "Motherfucker cost me my partner and had me sent to Facility Z."

"I was in Facility X for my testing. Never heard of Facility Z, though."

"It's better if you didn't."

"You guys still used a number system though?"

She nodded, looking down. "I was 74."

A cold spike ran up DJ's spine. "73 people. Christ."

"I'm sure there were a lot of good souls in that 73. Never get to know now." She looked at him. "You were from X, right? What was yours?"

"13."

"X… that was the Human-Reptilian one, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

She noticed his jaw tighten, but quickly averted her eyes. "There were 14 of you, right?"

"For someone who came from an entirely different Facility, you sure know a lot."

"Z was developed to allow the subject to integrate with an entire network to access secure files and personnel data. It was supposed to hook into the US military's system, but as a trial, I was networked with the Anti's system."

She finished the can and crushed it into a disk.

"It was a Northern Division assault on the complex that set me free. I was never disconnected from the system, so I am looking at your files right now. Call it cheating if you want."

Looking closer, her deep ocean blue eyes had little patches of white flying around in them. The sight only made him frown.

"My eyes aren't real. While they function the same, I can bring up anything that's in the Anti's system. Think of them as extreme versions of a TAC mask, combined with a network terminal." She smiled. "Hence why I'm the quartermaster here. If something is wrong with, say, a gun I can find out instantly and repair it. Same reason why I'm lead engineer."

"The only part I enjoy about this is the fact that I can cheat the system. Disable locks on the network, find out things about people so I'm not in the dark, find out what's wrong with the hardware…" She looked DJ up and down smirking, "Clothes, too."

DJ nervously chuckled, "That's… a joke, right?"

"Helps with the security checks. That geek Shane out West may be a skinny little shit who likes to tickle pressure points, but he's one hell of a security systems expert. Even if it has its flaws."

The young Operative's face turned beet red as he placed both his hands over his nether regions. The quartermaster chuckled.

"Hey, no shame in what you've got packing down there. You'll make a woman real happy someday, I'm sure."

"SHUT IT!"

She laughed. "Does it help to know that I'm a lesbian?"

"Not with that stupid grin on your face, no. Ah, fuck it!"

DJ picked up his can, downing as much as he could in one go. Maybe it'd knock him out of this nightmare like in his lightweight days before Project X.

It didn't.

The quartermaster patted him on the back. "Your experiment filters out poisons and toxins from your system. You'd wet yourself before your liver fails."

"I'm sure that'd look like one hell of a sight with me having no clothes on." He shook his head. "Fucking shit."

The last patches of sunset gave him little reprieve.

"Hey."

DJ looked to her, a lot less confident than from the start of the conversation.

"You're alright, kid." Her smile felt warmer now, especially with the little white squares fading from her eyes. "And it's not just your combat reports that show that."

The comfort allowed him to ask the last thing on his mind:

"What's your name?"

"Maria. Mari for short. You're actually the first person to ask that. No one else seems to give a flying fuck."

"I've noticed."

"Yeah. Last time Wolf called me over, he referred to me as 'female'. So the

'female' slapped the bejebus out of him and called him a cunt."

DJ quickly swallowed his drink before he would spit it out. His throat was stuck between half-choking and half-laughing. "What?!"

"Yep. Can't name one person aside from you I haven't slapped in this concrete shithole."

DJ wiped away the tears looking at his watch. "Shit, it's nearly eight. Better go back in before I get chewed out for missing curfew."

"And I better get on the night watch." Maria got up, pulling a PDA out of her black lab coat looking jacket as it beeped.

"Well lookie here. The lead nerd from the Western Division is coming over with his lacky to check out the base tomorrow. Looks like I also gotta get John to haul ass on those BOT repairs." She sighed. "Otherwise, I'm gonna have my ass handed to me by some skinny fucker that I'm not allowed to hit back for fear of 'reducing his engineering capabilities'."

DJ smiled and opened the roof hatch. He gave one last look at her.

"Hey, Mari?"

She looked up from her PDA. "Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you when I have questions about some shit? No one ever talks to me here…"

"Sure. Just don't get too personal, I have a habit of poking fun at the worst of times." She grinned. "Master Three Legs."

DJ went bright red again, biting his tongue. Instead, he ventured back inside to go get some rest.

* * *

The present took the place of his dreams of the past. He looked at the dashboard once more.

Eleven o' clock.

Taking another big drink from his flask and putting the rest back in the fridge. He hopped out of the vehicle.

"Nothing on me, just like you said old man." DJ said to himself.

He approached the fence, testing out the wires by tapping a finger against it. Feeling no spark snap at him back, he took his chances. The fence shook badly, but he made it over before its age would become a problem.

The massive building nearby featured two guards at its front, just as Putain said. An unusually low amount of security, but he wasn't one to complain.

There would likely be more bodies inside.

* * *

" _ **All is going to plan,"**_ A light-toned, booming Russian voice said.

" _ **Pavel, I think you need to see this."**_

" _ **What is it, Zai?"**_

" _ **The Western Division sent out a Senior Field Operative and The Anomaly out on a mission. They were recently captured by The Professor."**_

" _ **Bah! Cain and his Entropite are weak and useless. The Auditor will see this and be done with him soon. The raw power of the Drives themselves are the key, as well as the keystone Christoff wields."**_

" _ **But…"**_

" _ **But nothing. The Anomaly is of some concern, but Cain will not be an issue. The old human is past his time, the fact he hasn't lost his mind yet is the only reason he is still here."**_

" _ **Cain has his old project back."**_

" _ **Please. The brother is of no concern. Madness will consume him, or he will be weak to the influence of the energy regardless. Let The Anomaly handle him. With how far the old fool's mind has deteriorated, I have little to no doubt that he and his partner will escape Cain's confinement."**_

The visage of Zai remained quiet, as Devus's visage appeared on the rock formation.

" _ **Was it successful?"**_ Pavel's visage turned to Devus.

" _ **Yes. The new experimental units are feeble, with armor just as fickle. They will not be a problem for the target to take out should he 'fail' his mission."**_

" _ **Good. Then we will leave this in the hands of the man's father. Removing this Host from the war will make things easier."**_

" _ **Indeed, sir."**_

" _ **One more thing, Devus."**_

" _ **Yes, sir?"**_

" _ **Have you considered surgery to correct your poor vision?"**_

For a good couple of seconds, silence separated the two of them.

" _ **Devus?"**_

" _ **I WILL FUCKING RIP YOUR HEAD OFF!"**_

" _ **Gotta catch me first, you blind bastard."**_

Both vanished, while the Pavel phantom turned back around. He glowered at the lone building.

" _ **I'm surrounded by fucking idiots…"**_

* * *

A/N: I'm gonna keep this one short as I already did a big post in chapter 2.

I wanna point out something first: I DO NOT ENDORSE UNDERAGE DRINKING. The legal age restrictions are different for New Zealand than they are in America, please do not drink underage because it can and most likely will mess you up long term.

Credit for Mari goes to an old friend of mine. She was originally from a Star Wars fic that got deleted a year or two ago, and he offered her to me with some changes, so cheers for the amazing character Derek even if she is a bit of cheeky bitch sometimes XP.

* * *

OC Credits (Cameo name reference only):

 **The Professor/Cain:** Spirit9871

 _(Featured):_

 **Putain:** Derek

* * *

Alrighty, back to business per usual then with the chapters ^^

Cheers everyone.

~TDMD


	4. Chapter 4: Ice (Part 1)

Chapter 4: Ice

* * *

"Damn it man! It's so cold out here I can barely feel my fingers," one of the two Agents complained.

The Red Zone always felt just that bit colder than the rest of Nevada, but today was strangely colder than normal. The facility was situated close to the edge of the Red Zone border, so keeping a lookout was all the two Agents had to worry about, but even that was proving a difficulty with the sudden snowfall limiting their vision and turning the temperature to freezing.

It had been warm and sunny only a few minutes ago.

"Keep your tits on, 927. They're doing more weather testing with some equipment or something. Snow, apparently. I told you to grab your gloves." the other retorted.

"Easy for you to say. You're getting promoted to Engineer soon enough." 927 fiddled with his shotgun; the cold made it hard for him to grip it properly. "You won't have to worry about this bullshit anymore."

The other checked over his MP5. "Sure. But that means I have to deal with what's inside these buildings."

927 dropped his Mossberg 500 in the snow, breathing into his hands. His partner growled at him.

"Hey! Pick your weapon back up! If we get attacked, you're gonna be defenseless!"

"Pfft, this is the Red Zone!" He shoved his hands inside his suit jackets pockets to warm them up. "No sane person would attack us here."

Before he could reply, 927's partner found himself looking the other way. For the split second he remained alive, he realized his head was violently turned 180 degrees.

927 stared out at the mountains. The cold steel of an MP5 pressed against his neck for his incompetence, while a strong arm snaked around his throat.

"You have two choices. One, you open the door for me, I knock you out, and leave your body somewhere nice and warm. Or two, you resist and you get to feel the burning embrace of death. Your choice."

927 nodded, taking out his keycard, and unlocking the door.

"T… There…"

"Good lad. Nighty night."

The world went dark after a brief, sharp pain on the back of the Agent's head. His assailant dragged his body around the corner, and propped him up next to the trash cans. Opening one that was marked 'Paper' and pulling out a lighter, he set the trash can alight, creating an area of warmth.

Returning and retrieving the stockless shotgun and discarding the MP5, the man looked up at the building.

"Well DJ, you got this far. Let's see what all this talk about new unit's is about."

* * *

"OI! BE CAREFUL WITH THOSE THINGS, THEY'RE EXPENSIVE!"

The two Agents lifting the large crates shot a death glare at their leading Engineer before going back to their task.

"James! We have a problem!" Another Engineer shouted over the radio.

The lead Engineer turned and went to the nearby computer console. He pulled open the chat system.

"What's the deal, Fredericks?"

"One of the new units got out and attacked the guards. We lost 9 men an-"

The lead Engineer took off his uniquely formed mask and looked at his equal in rank through the console. He rolled his eyes.

"What about the unit?"

"Dead, sir. One of the Grunts took an M203 to its head. Only the torso's left."

The Engineer turned the video feed to the disfigured, but very large remains of what appeared to be a large armored torso and legs. The blood pooled on the ground appeared to be a combination of crushed bodies and flesh.

"Damn it… Give the Grunt a promotion but remind staff that they are to subdue any escapees with NON-LETHAL force."

The Engineer on the other end saluted and killed the call. His superior sat back in the office chair and looked at his mask, frowning. The double-raised eyebrow formation instead of the single allowed for a slightly better view than the standard version.

"Auditor so help me, I will make this project work. I only hope doctor Jameson holds up his end of the deal… Then at least we can get one old project out of the way."

Donning his mask again and getting up, he pulled out his PDA and went back to investigating why the facilities files were so unorganised.

* * *

Having managed to get into the air vent, DJ moved through the metal passageway slowly. The shotgun on his back made it a tighter fit, but it was manageable.

He kept himself entertained by occasionally stopping to look through vent grates. A couple of 'non-standard' acts caught his attention. The facility's janitor practicing a very unique, but seemingly deadly combat style with his mop and an Engineer's private quarters filled with items of... questionable nature were to name a few.

Moving on from these strange occurrences, with a newfound fear of the janitor, he finally came across a ventilation shaft area that he could stand up to move in.

Looking down through the vent cover he found himself over a large containment area. It was almost chaotic with Grunts and Agents milling around moving and storing various items. Lining the walls of the containment room were large, transparent liquid filled tubes.

Taking a moment to look around, something caught his eye. Someone in a lab coat flanked by Soldats in discussion. He was too far away to hear the conversation, but he did see what they were perhaps talking about:

A massive and disfigured man was being loaded into a tube. Thick grey armor plates covered his body; they looked strong enough to brush off anything less than the highest caliber armor piercing shots.

Taking a notepad from his jacket, DJ noted down the features. His jaw dropped; a massive Automag V pistol was put in a crate next to the tube. It wasn't quite Mag Agent-sized, but it was definitely big enough to blast a tank.

A tinge of envy hit him.

Noting this down as well, he turned his attention back to the talking bunch below him… Only they weren't there anymore.

Panic struck him as his eyes darted all over the place. A slight hint of relief returned when he spotted one of the Soldats again. It vanished when he realized where he was aiming his FAL for.

The air vent.

The split-second DJ moved back was more than enough time for the Soldat to take the shot. DJ felt the bullet graze his shoulder, his scales shielding him from any serious damage.

He put the pad away, making a run for the exit. DJ got within inches of the outside air vent cover… before plunging through an open grate in the floor right into the break room.

The table had broken his fall as a good 10 Agents staring at him in disbelief at what had just happened. As well as Mop Master Janitor.

DJ looked up. He eyed up the Agents, then groaned when he saw the janitor.

"Damn it. Of all people it has to be you that I run into…"

DJ got up, cracking his shoulder back into place. One of the Agents rushed him with a kitchen knife, only to be uppercutted with such force that he ended up with half his body in the ceiling.

DJ took a proper fighting stance to deal with the Agents, preparing himself for a dogpile.

None moved or attacked however. DJ had lowered his guard slightly as he thought about why they weren't at least readying themselves for combat.

Big mistake.

A sharp prick in his back was shortly followed by a violent stream of electricity. His body spasmed, throat tightening and blocking his screams as his body seized up and refused to move.

"Well, well, well. This will look good on my report."

A second sting hit the back of his neck, only this time he recognized it as a needle. His body slowly begin to relax, strength fading as whatever foreign substance that was injected into him overwhelmed him.

"Just relax… everything will be okay…"

The voice grew softer as his vision faded. Hazy vision allowed him to observe himself being picked up and taken away.

" _Fffffuuuuuuck..."_

* * *

The few minutes between when he got captured and what he was subjected to now felt like hours. Before long, his vision began to slowly clear but he was still stuck in a paralyzed trance, unable to move anything except his eyes.

He had gotten a look at the people before him as he was strapped onto the table without his shirt on. The lead Engineer and the doctor were there. The doctor stepped forward, noticing DJ's vision had returned to him.

"Ah! You're awake, very good. Welcome to Facility Colossus... but you are already familiarized with its layout, no? Perhaps its original title will help you remember: _Facility X_."

Facility X. The name made DJ's stomach turn.

"Now, I know what you must be thinking. How can this be Facility X? Agent Haywood destroyed it years ago when he took you in." The doctor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Well, we rebuilt it see. Easier to rebuild on the foundations that existed. And much more cost effective."

The corners of his lips curled into a grin. "I am Doctor Derek Jameson. This is my project leader, James McLeary, although he goes by the title 573. Welcome to our facility. You're going to spend a lot of time here, son."

DJ's confusion reflected clearly enough in his eyes.

"Not that you would remember much, considering I wiped your memory long ago." He pulled a stool over and sat in front of DJ. "You must have noticed by now that my face seems vaguely familiar? I could never erase all your memories, some are simply too ingrained to do so. Where shall we start…? Ah, yes. "

Jameson leaned in closer with his incredibly smashable skull.

"How about six years ago, in that orphanage in New Zealand?"

* * *

"Okay, Mister and Missus Jameson. Just fill out these and the lad will be yours." The office clerk slid a few sheets of paper towards the young couple's way. "You have done him a very great service here. He has only been here a week."

 _Ko te pani pani a te tarakona_ ; Dragon Egg Orphanage. The place had only opened a few weeks prior, but was already at full capacity. Thankfully, it was a more modern facility compared to others, what with the government sparing little expense dealing with the homeless more than ever that year.

"He's such a wonderful and bright boy. Not troublesome or harsh, mostly quiet." The clerk folded his hands. "Family history… well, that's another matter."

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Jameson asked.

"When Drake was about nine years old there was… an incident."

He stood up and pulled out a file with Drake's photo on the cover, followed by an old newspaper clipping. "Murder" was the first word the couple saw on the print.

"Drake's father had been an outspoken advocate for the termination of all activities in New Zealand by the Agency Against Human Warfare. The killers were never found, but judging by his father's passionate stance against the head of the Agency, many had reason to believe they were responsible.

"In retrospect, that may have been the last straw for the Prime Minister to cut all ties with the organization." The clerk took a drink of his lukewarm coffee. "Not my place to talk about politics though, I suppose."

Wordlessly, Mrs. Jameson signed the papers, and handed them back. The clerk placed them down in a small container under the desk. He stood and opened the office door.

"This way, please."

He led them into the hallway, silent under the dead of the night. Then, the clerk stopped at a door on the right and opened it, allowing his two patrons to look inside.

The room was very clean, with even the walls remaining barren. A small bookshelf loaded with language books and a single copy of the _Lord of The Rings_ novel was the only other piece of furniture apart from the bed.

"He only has a few things to take with him, given he doesn't want to keep the books. I hope you don't mind, but we couldn't take _it_ from him no matter how hard we tried."

The clerk went over to the bed, where Drake was laying on his side, facing away from the door. As the Jamesons got a closer look, it became obvious what DJ had that concerned the the clerk.

An M993 from an M60.

Whereas Mrs. Jameson's expression turned grim, Mr. Jameson retained his composure. The clerk lightly tapped Drake on the shoulder.

"Drake? You've been adopted, kid. I told you that you were a lucky one."

Drake turned over to face Mr. and Mrs. Jameson, pocketing the large round. He maintained his line of sight on them as he sat up.

Even before he stood on his two feet, his unusual height was evident. Standing 5"8, many might even mistaken the teen for a rugby player.

Unwavered, Mr. Jameson brushed some of his dark brown hair out of his face. He pushed his teashade glasses up his nose, smiling.

"Come on, son. Let's go home."

Drake simply nodded, exiting the room before they did. The clerk sighed.

"He's like that around new people. I would advise you both to keep an eye on him, however. You will quickly see for yourselves as to why."

"We will be capable of whatever he throws our way." Mrs. Jameson said, following her husband out of the room. She gave him one last smile.

"I am sure of it."

* * *

"The moment we observed your behaviors, it became clear that you were perfect." Derek chuckled. "I am certain your caretaker must have thought of us as fools for our decision. But where others saw warnings, we saw opportunities."

DJ glared at him. If this was just some lunatic's ploy using some leaked details of DJ's past, then he certainly did his research.

"But of course, the more interesting story is how we got here today, with you like this..."

He motioned for James to bring his PDA over. Derek opened an old file full of video records. He opened one, bringing the projector screen in front of them to life. The scientist slouched on the stool, while DJ turned his attention to the screen.

"The day you appeared was the best day of my life, Anderson. I knew I made the right choice by finding you that night..."

* * *

"Derek, you're sure this'll work?"

"Calm down, Beth. We already ran the tests on the other 12 to make sure his will be a success."

" _ **That may be so, Mr. Jameson. But your wife has a point. Should this fail, we lose the only subject for the next 2 years capable of becoming an Artificial Host without resorting to torture."**_

"Cain's methods are old and only rarely produce refined results. The brothers are a prime example of that. This will be the first raw success in creating someone physically altered by the Energy without causing Dissonant Reality."

"Still, it would be safer to implement Entropite into his body. It would reduce the risk of rejection…"

"And cause horrific mutations to form rapidly. No. He will develop the mutations over time. They will grow with his body so there will be no rejection. His body must be convinced that what is happening is natural."

" _ **The Auditor wants progress Mr. Jameson. He wants results. While your actions are shown to be more refined, Cain's projects bare fruits much faster than yours."**_

"I am aware Pavel, but you know as well as I do that Cain's experiments drive the subject insane and uncontrollable 75% of the time. Pray the other 25% will not be uncovered by the public. We need a controllable subject and this is the best way to do it. Yes, it will take time, but rest assured we will produce the best goddamn super soldier this world has ever seen!"

"I wish I was as confident as you are in this project, Derek. Using someone so young is not ethical."

"I'm going by the standards set by our superiors, which, mind you, are pretty low. Besides, the younger the body, the easier the implementation. If this works, even Cain will be able to appreciate this work. In the long run, we can see him even absorbing raw or even pure Entropite with no ill effects, transferring it into much more powerful Energy."

" _ **You sound like you wish to take Cain on with this experiment of yours."**_

"I do. The old man has been meddling with my projects for long enough. I will make a super soldier that will impress The Auditor, and so help me, he will see its importance. Better yet, the boy seems to be willing. We will look better in the eyes of the public, whereas Cain would be torn to shreds. Mark my words, we will change the world and do so with long-term support of the people. What's world domination without willing subjects, hm?"

" _ **Regardless of how that Disjointed Power see's this child, remember that he will be used for our agenda, Mr. Jameson."**_

"Yes, yes. Come the end of the project, you will have this one, as I work on making one less powerful for the AAHW…"

"You think The Auditor will appreciate a more ethically produced result, hun?"

"If it makes it easier to take the world? Then as the kids these days say Beth: Fuck yes."

"Just be careful… He's still our son."

"I will. Don't worry, as experimental as this is, we will be a family regardless."

* * *

The video stopped. Derek put the PDA down and looked directly at DJ, the look on his face stern but somewhat soft.

"The day I lost you to those Antithesis terrorists, my heart was broken. I lost my funding, lost the trust of the contractors, and worse, I lost a son. I was shoved out here in this old facility to think on my mistakes and to produce lesser works of Cain's design. But now you're back and you have made much progress. I doubt I even need to infuse the Entropite I stole away from one of Cain's subjects… too bad you're no longer willing like you used to be."

DJ had gotten enough feeling back to speak. Though it had only been ten minutes since he woke up, it felt like days.

"I was only… willing because I didn't know… better."

He struggled against the bonds.. It was pointless; his body hadn't returned to full strength yet.

"Even so, look at how you have progressed. Tell me, how well would you have fared if I didn't do this to you?"

DJ was about to make a witty comeback when he remembered many times that his abilities had helped greatly. The Holochamber battle against Hydra, his first few missions from the outpost. All those times he got lonely and…

He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts; not the time to be thinking of those. Derek procured a rather large needle from the nearby tray.

"I unfortunately, will need to inject you with this. It is a special serum I produced, commonly referred to as "Berserker's Nectar" by my colleagues here. It should increase the level of your mutation faster and make you stronger."

He tapped the tip of the needle to clear the air out of it, making DJ shiver. The syringe itself was filled with a sparky black liquid that coursed with a deep purple shine occasionally in the light.

"The effects are temporary of course, and over time, the serum will adapt your body so you can control it. The first few times however, you will not be able to control your body and it will no doubt be quite painful. Despite my aversion to fast mutations, this will make your mutation adapt much quicker, turning months into minutes."

Derek safely pocketed the serum away. "We will be using Cain's new units to test this out. He always takes my things to test his projects on, so he can spare a few hundred of these monstrosities."

Derek got two Agents to transport the restrained DJ to an arena-like room nearby. Quite big and open like a warehouse, but it was littered with shell casings and blood stains everywhere, and a few half-mangled corpses. Derek grimaced.

"Looks like the last test group didn't clean up. Oh well, makes no difference."

He turned from the sight and held DJ still with his free hand as he readied the needle. DJ shouted at Derek as he closed in.

"For the love of all that is holy, get that damn needle away from me!"

Ignoring the aggressive shouts for mercy, Derek injected the liquid just below the collarbone. DJ's trypanophobia nearly made him bite a hole in his lip as he did his best to avoid crying out in pain. BN was almost immediate with its effect as the muscles in his body began to spasm.

The Agents released the bonds that held him, quickly escaping the room behind Derek. The ballistic glass a floor up gave them an unobstructed view of the arena as

DJ had fallen to the floor. His shirtless figure made the visibility of BN's effects instantaneous.

Scales began to rip across his back, shredding his epidermis as they appeared. His wails of pain were deafening as the scales then hardened and covered his naked flesh in their armored mass. One of the Agents ran towards a nearby trash bin, feeling bile rise up. The other continued to watch with Derek, their expressions almost stoic in nature.

By the minute mark, DJ's entire back was covered in the scales. His short talons had grown longer and sharper, the pitch black colour of his eyes turning into a deep, but vibrant crimson-red. Standing up made him realize his body was almost unrecognizable. What was once a fairly respectable figure had turned into something equivalent of six months' worth of vigorous weight training.

Derek smiled. He snapped his fingers.

"Send in the first unit."

The Engineer in the back complied, entering a command into the console before him. The console's screen blared red as two words appeared in full caps:

 **[INITIATE WAVE]**

DJ turned to look at the large door. Beastial rage crossed his face in the form of a scowl, gritted teeth and a low growl personifying the rage. Given his more feral posture and heavy breathing after he rose from the pool of blood, he wasn't all there anymore. It seemed like he had just crawled out of a horror movie after killing not only the victims, but the killer as well.

The armored door opened with a metal screeching against concrete. Out walked a behemoth of a man, clad in the grey armor that DJ had seen before. He released a low growl at the large being, shifting his weight back in anticipation. The door behind the monstrocity closed like the maw of a beast. Two abominations stood before each other, ready to shed blood. Derek felt his lower jaw quiver.

The circumstances couldn't have been better.

* * *

A/N: Jesus that took longer than I expected. Considering I had most of this written out on paper and just had to add details to help it make sense, I'm surprised it took this long.

* * *

Well now, with that out of the way, I can get onto the final bits. This is a personal project for me as it delves into both back story and present time plotlines. DJ is a character that I have had many forms produced over time and honestly I feel that as a character he is a personification of myself more than he is just another character. Similar beliefs, similar morals, similar bad mouth, similar bad habits XP.

Anyway: OC credits

* * *

 **James McLeary** : 37

 **927** : Jack

* * *

I feel like I'm doing this every chapter but a special thanks to my good friend Spirit9871 for assisting me with beta-reading these chapters. You are honestly one of the best friends I could ask for as well as one of the best authors I know currently. I don't think that I would have gotten as far as I have, despite how far I still have to go, without you. So thank you for the support and assistance you have given me.

As for everyone else, your views are what count most, although reviews are pretty nifty too. Thank you to everyone who keeps sticking around to see these updates despite my inactive ass being very frugal with these updates.

Peace out sheeple.

~TDMD


	5. Chapter 5: Memories (part 2)

Chapter 5: Memories

* * *

DJ launched off the back foot he had put his weight on and rushed forward, roaring in a blind rage as he shoulder charged the behemoth. The GOL3M's body armor crumpled like it was paper; the force knocked the GOL3M over, giving DJ an opportunity. He jumped up onto the creature and charged up his iconic Power Fist attack. Bright white traces of Improbable Energy fizzed from his knuckles like sparks coming off a broken power line.

 _BOOM!_

A wave blasted out of his fist, disintegrating his adversary's helmet. DJ continued tearing the beast's head in with his taloned hands, splattering blood, skin, flesh and bone everywhere.

Derek watched, slack-jawed. Uncertainty from failed trial after trial of past subjects with the serum started to dissipate. This new rage with the mutation speed… triumph replaced old reservations.

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant results! Get ready to send a report to-"

"Sir. You may want to hold off on that report," the Agent next to the window replied.

"What?"

Derek looked back down the one-way mirror. His ecstasy evaporated in an instant. DJ had finally stopped tearing apart the corpse, but primal hunger took over as he ripped chunks off flesh. Blood covered the surrounding area and himself as he gorged on the remains.

Derek gripped the handrail until his knuckles turned white. The two Agents ventured back in with a Soldat as backup, firing tranquilizer darts to take him down. They too however proved useless, shattering like glass upon contact. DJ rounded on them, leaving a faint blood trail in the air behind him as he launched at his captors.

After taking basically a Falcon Punch punch to the gut, one Agent ended up stuck halfway into the wall as a broken and crumpled mess. The other shot at DJ with the dart gun again out of instinct. A sudden rush of force and a ripping sensation left the surviving Agent gasping for breath. A painful realization came to the unfortunate Agent; DJ had ripped the man's lungs out.

DJ descended on him and ripped off his right leg, tearing flesh from bone. The Soldat, aim unhindered from the fiasco, shot at DJ with his .308 rifle in the back. The bullet elicited a feral yelp from DJ as it ricocheted off the angled and densely packed scales. Karma came all too soon as it shattered the Soldat's eyepiece, sending him spiraling back.

DJ turned on the deceased Soldat, and sent a taloned hand through his shoulder. He pulled back before lurching forward, chomping at his innards through his kit. A burning sensation crossed his mouth as his taste buds felt like they were on fire. Pulling back once more he spat out the foul yellow remains.

Derek sighed. " _Guess the chemical upgrades on the Soldat's blood makes them inedible to him. I wonder if that spreads to the Engineers…"_

Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his weary eyes and turned to James. "Gas the chamber. We will secure him overnight."

James wordlessly approached the console behind them. Typing into the command line: _EXE:GASPROTOCAL;2_ , a pale red mist filled the battle chamber. Upon noticing the red haze around him, the feral DJ began frantically looking for a way out.

Seeing freedom in the form of the door he had entered through, DJ got up and sprinted for the doorway. Five meters from salvation, he hit the ground like a ton of bricks, out cold.

Derek sighed in relief. "Thank Christoff for Sinig's gas. We'd have to unload the whole armory onto that monster otherwise."

Turning to James, Derek found him staring through the glass once more, observing the Agents below. The Agent pushing the cart carrying DJ out the door struggled like a mover with an oversized sofa.

"Those scales of his have increased his weight dramatically. I recommend having Soldats handle him instead."

Derek grunted in agreement, wandering over to the console in the back.

"Sir?"

Derek readjusted his glasses again, drawing a data disk from the console. "Yes, James? What is it?"

James glanced to the arena below; the remains of both GO3LM and unit alike were now being cleaned up by the janitor. "You do remember that he isn't just some test subject, don't you?"

Derek frowned. "What are you insinuating?"

James removed his Engineer's TAC and looked to the disk in Derek's hand, labeled: "Project Colossus."

"You promised Beth on her deathbed that you would treat him as your son no matter what. You looked into her eyes and told her you would as she grasped onto her last memories of her family."

Derek flinched. The containment breach and explosion. The degradation of her mind as she forgot how to walk, eat, and eventually, breathe. Where the incident haunted him like a phantom, his work was his holy water.

Or perhaps, that too, was just the continuation of the curse.

Noticing Derek stuck in thought, James donned his mask. The digital display blared multiple URGENT alerts at him.

"X13 may be Antithesis Operative DJ Anderson. But he is still also your son." He sighed, dismissing them from his HUD with eye movements. "You reminded me a little of Doc Hoff earlier."

Derek looked up to James, who had turned to the door. "Make what you want out of it. You are the scientist here, after all."

Derek looked to his vibrating pocket; his pager was going off.

James walked to the door, facing Derek before leaving. "The time off I took to watch this has left me with nearly 20 jobs that should have been done five minutes ago. We can discuss things further at the meeting next week."

He saluted and left. Shutting off the lights, Derek left the observatory, ignoring the indistinct chatter around him as he meandered back to his office on the upper floors. Swiping his keycard and pushing the door open, he found himself in a familiar space.

Black wool carpet and proper crimson red wallpaper gave the room life. Oak desk with comfortable old swivel chair. Coffee machine for those long nights.

The office seemed like a paradox; it brought back all his haunting memories, but he felt safer here than anywhere else. Sitting in the old chair, Derek leaned on the cluttered desk. He rested his head in his hands, mind drifted back to what James had said.

A growl escaped his lips as he gripped at the sides of his hair. He slammed his clenched fists on the desk, scattering pens and papers like terrified insects.

* * *

" _ **She's gone, Mr. Jameson. Best you can do now is hide her body and remember her before standard policies kick in to remove her."**_

" _I know, Pavel."_

" _ **Mr. Jameson. An Antithesis attack on the facility is imminent."**_

" _Leave Drake here. Beth will be cremated and the Antithesis will take Drake. They already have subjects A, H, R, W and Z."_

" _ **You would actively arm the Antithesis with another Host? The Auditor would not react warmly to such news."**_

" _His knowledge of the matter is irrelevant. We are a small facility with one project that has already been deemed a failure because of the time frame."_

" _ **And what of the child? Surely the Improbable Energy will cause instability."**_

" _Drake's mutations are stable, and will remain so. His mental state is unaffected by the Energy, and his physical mutations are slow growing. He will be fine even under stress."_

" _ **You think the child is a flawless Artificial Host? Not even Cain could pull that off."**_

" _He did not have the knowledge I have. Time is the best thing we have… and it's all Drake has now."_

" _ **Very well. The Operative coming for this place is quite skilled. He hails from their Eastern Division."**_

" _All the better. If it's truly lead by one of those fabled Delta Squad members of theirs, bypassing AAHW defenses should be a cakewalk for them."_

* * *

Derek leaned back against the chair, letting the numbness in his hands settle. He glanced down to the bottom drawer of his desk.

Was he really thinking of doing this? Surely the Auditor would find out...

No. It had to be done.

" _If Beorg actually does anything in retaliation I would almost stick around just to see it."_ Derek stood and went over to the coffee machine.

The old and beaten machine ceased working during the last attack due to taking a few bullets, but the strong smell of fresh Americano had never left it.

Running his fingers through one of the scratches he found what he was looking for. A small slot in the groove. Hidden inside was an old and weathered polaroid photo.

Himself and Beth had taken a photo before they returned to Nevada with Drake. The only material memory of more peaceful times.

Returning to the desk Derek stared blankly through the photo.

He muttered under is breath, "for them."

Turning the photo over, he found what he was looking for. A phone number.

It was a number he never thought he would seriously call. The original purpose was to feed false information to the Antithesis out of boredom.

Opening the bottom drawer of the desk revealed an old turn dial phone. With a grunt of effort Derek lifted the heavy device onto the desk, casting a weary glance to the modern phone on his desk.

He had always suspected it was bugged, given how he used to receive shipments so quickly. Picking up the receiver he entered the number into the old phone, and waited for the ear splitting dial tone to end.

 _Beeeep_

 _Beeeep_

 _Bee- Click._

" _Multi National United Shipping, how may I help you?"_

"I need to speak with SFO Victor Bentroth, ID 3721-9483."

" _Please hold."_

Derek waited tensely, eyeing his door, if someone walked in it was all over. Life on the other end made him jump.

" _Ugh… Aye? Who's 'is"_

"Victor."

" _What… ye supposed to be dead."_

"Faked it. Less loose ends to clean up. I need your help."

" _If ye seriously think imma 'elp ya, yer a few apples short a pie."_

"Drake is back with me. I need a way out. It's urgent."

Silence followed for a blood chilling 5 minutes. Derek's tension could have been cut with a butter knife.

A loud rattling like something hitting a metal table sounded through the receiver, sending a wave of static through Derek's body. He quickly calmed himself before he fainted.

" _Same place?"_

"Yeah."

" _Ye got four days. Teh facility' goes boom wen we get ye two out. 'ear me?"_

"Yes. Thank you…"

" _Not doin' it fer ye. Doin' it for teh kid."_

"I know… Just remind your guys that I'm an HVT and they aren't supposed to shoot me."

" _No promises."_

The call ended. Derek returned the phone to its body and hid it away again.

Sighing, Derek opened his desk drawer and leaned forward. He needed to calm down.

He pulled a box of chinese takeaway out of the unusually warm drawer, and smiled to himself.

"I never thought a warmer drawer in the desk would be a good idea but I guess it does have its uses. Cheers Beth." he dug into his Lou Mein.

* * *

"Easy, 328. If he wakes up, we're done for," the Agent instructed his companion.

328 scoffed as he regained his grip. "Pfft. Easy for you to say. You're not pushing a metric ton of flesh and armor through the whole damn facility…"

The first Agent opened the security door to DJ's cell. "Oh, please. I bet he doesn't weigh that much."

328's face turned red as a vein popped out of the side of his head. He tripped over the lipped edge of the door, face planting the ground and dropping the cart on its side. The other Agent jolted, fleeing from the cell without hesitation. The Warden, a massive GOL3M donned in black and red armor, locked the door.

328 groaned, holding his bloodied nose as he stood.

"Hey! Don't leave me in here with-"

In realization, the Agent slowly looked to the cart. The restraints had been ripped off. A chill ran up 328's spine.

"Fuck."

As the word left his lips, a rush of force pinned to the ground. Growling from behind his ear stiffened the Agent's muscles. An ice cold talon dragged down the side of his neck and along his cheek bone.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip your spine out and play t-ball with your heart."

Only a squeak left 328's throat. The talon drew back hard across his cheek, leaving a deep gash. The weight however, left his back.

"Get out."

A loud clang of shackles caused the Agent to scramble to his feet. 328 ran for the exit, bashing his fist against its metal surface. As much as he wished it wasn't true, he was stuck in there with DJ for the night.

328 turned around, sliding his back down against the door. DJ had sat on the bed watching him. Growling, he turned away.

"Fine. But the ground rule is that you stay away from me. Understand?"

328 nodded, doing very little to hide his jaw jittering. DJ put on the shirt left for him. A gust of wind blew up from beneath 328, startling him into movement.

"Don't freeze to death over there. I'd rather not have a corpse in here."

DJ's voice from across the room sounded much softer. 328 looked to the ground, eyeing the blanket that was once on the bed. With a shaky hand, he grabbed the quilt. It wasn't very thick, but it was better than his suit alone.

Morning couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

A/N: Ok, that does part 2. Shockingly I have no warnings here or disclaimers, which is a change.

OC Credits:

* * *

 **Cain:** Spirit9871 (Referenced in name only.)

 **James McLeary:** 37

* * *

Alrighty. That's that, see you all in the next one.

~TDMD


	6. Chapter 6: Fire

Chapter 6: Fire

* * *

 _Officers report. 10:30 AM. Log: Level 3 Agent Makavoy Tarnevski._

* * *

 _ **Anti-AAHW Operative DJ Anderson had been under the effect of the BR for 6 hour intervals with 3 hour rest periods for the past 2 days. In that time over 100 new GOL3M units had been destroyed. Doctor Derek Jameson has become more strict over this time, allowing less standard supplies to come in, and only specific non-standard items to be let into the facility. Lead engineer James McLeary, ID 573, has been assigned to keep an eye on the Doctor in case his mental capacity deteriorates.**_

 _ **No other incidents aside from a unit containment malfunction have occured.**_

 _ **Advisory: Send additional Grunt operatives for base operations. More expendable units will make processes simpler and decrease chances of information leaks.**_

* * *

 _End Report._

* * *

"Derek." A voice spoke through the darkness of the office.

Derek lifted his head from the desk, grunting in response and running his hand through his hair. He had pulled an all nighter to get a new project signed off after testing. A cleanup method to clear vast areas of bush and trees in one go without very much effort. Of course he hadn't been working alone but he never anticipated the project to take so long. That being said, since it had already been tested to great effect in the east, it proved childs play to get extra funding to refine and improve the process.

"Derek. The project, how did it go?"

He recognised the voice as his assistant Sinig.

Ah Sinig. When everything seemed to make no sense, Sinig always came with the answer in such a simple form. " _Is the correct gene number one or number two?" "The tenth one." "What tenth one?" "The one you have been ignoring at the back of the sample."_

"We have the funding. We have to make it more effective over a larger area and refine it to get even the tiniest blades of grass… I will however be diverting some of the funding to the Vorpal project so we can move on with it." He sat up and turned on the desk lamp, faintly illuminating the dark room.

"We have funding and any will help massively. I will set to work on focusing it first, then enhancing the scale of the effect." Sinig seemed genuinely excited as he took his leave.

Derek sighed and stood up slowly, shuffling his way to the coffee machine and making a cup, albeit rather poorly given his lethargic state.

Figuring coffee is coffee and just ignoring it, he opened the large blinds and let in the faint light of the sun.

Sipping the pretty bad excuse of his coffee, he actually smiled and looked to the photo he had taken from its frame a few nights ago. "I hope I can at least give him a chance to live…"

Derek's door opened to reveal James, who was rather heavily armed with his own personal FAL.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah, lets go."

Derek downed his coffee and put the mug down, grabbing his name tag and putting it on.

It bore his name and ID number, but also his title:

"The Reaper"

He was not happy with the title in truth, but given the nature of the main project he was on, it was fitting.

But today was not a day for the project, today was his assigned day off to overview the other projects in the facility.

James lead him to the prison area, which was guarded by grunts who nervously saluted their superiors who passed by after throwing a quick salute back.

The prison area held only 2 people.

The Warden, who was a beast of a GOL3M for even those large behemoths, was clad in black armor with a red lining along the plates.

And DJ, who was not even being watched or even really guarded which seemed strange at first glance.

The fact of the matter was that DJ hadn't even thought of escaping due to The Warden. He figured the beast would kill him no matter the stage of his protective scale mutations.

He was reading one of the books that Derek had brought him upon request. It was a book detailing how to speak Russian. There were nearly 20 books surrounding him of various languages, but ten of which were about learning Russian specifically. DJ had explicitly asked for them for some reason.

Derek and James approached the large cell he was in, seperated from them by a large pane of ballistic glass.

Derek opened the door with his keycard and entered with James. The appearance of the two caught DJ's attention but only for a few seconds.

"Drake. How are you today?"

"YA chuvstvuyu sebya kak der'mo, no spasibo, chto sprosil." DJ replied. It seemed he had been practicing after all.

"Wait wait, let's see if my russian is still decent… Your saying you feel like shit but you are thanking me for asking?".

"Yep, that's the one." DJ replied, not looking up as he finished the last page of the book.

"And why do you feel like shit?" Derek asked politely with genuine concern toned in his voice.

"My best guess is that my internal organs are still adjusting, mainly my intestinal tract. I have felt like taking a shit for the past half hour but I know I can't. Although eating seems to fix it." He closed the book and sat up on the bed, grabbing his shirt and putting it on.

Over the course of time, he had grown a fair bit, now standing a good 6"2 from his previous 5"10. His once abnormally sized muscles and thick looking scales had now become more (for lack of better term) natural looking and less oversized as his body adjusted to the mutations and changes. It seemed the mutations had finished entirely, as all of his body except his face had changed and mutated.

He now bore small talons at the end of each toe instead of nails, but they were not sharp or long enough to impede wearing his combat boots he now donned. He had taken to wearing fingerless gloves that Derek had provided as a 'gift' to compensate for the talons denying him fingered gloves.

His eyes had not changed much from the initial mutation, and were still the same deep crimson red. His teeth had in one night of horror two days earlier fallen out and had been replaced with much sharper more fang like teeth, making any barred teeth or grin look seem leagues more terrifying. The process was however not very pleasant. After all, watching one's teeth fall out is not something normal.

Aside from that, and various 'other' changes down below, his body had adapted to the mutations incredibly well. He now looked rather normal while wearing his clothes as the scales had stopped just below his hairline and under his jaw, and looked more like an elaborate tattoo than real scales. The only real giveaways were his teeth and his fingerless glove hands.

"That will pass thankfully, now. We have a new test today, and it doesn't involve the BR serum. A simple evaluation of your strength and moves you have developed." Derek reassured him.

DJ got off the bed and donned his Dragon Alliance hoodie. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and approached them. The apparent willingness DJ expressed made James grab his FAL just that bit tighter.

"Let's get on with it. As my old teacher would say, my Russian is gavno, and I want to get back to practicing as soon as possible." He wandered past them, out the door.

Derek half panicked as The Warden looked at DJ leaving, and caught up with him quickly with James following up behind. "While I appreciate the enthusiasm, the other staff here most likely do not. Please don't get ahead of us like that."

"No promises." DJ remarked, wandering past the grunts and throwing a glare. The smell soon after was clear enough of a sign that one had shit themselves literally, making James who had hung back walk much faster.

"Should have worn your brown pants dude." The other grunt joked at him, making the first go red with embarrassment.

"Shut up…" He vanished, leaving the other grunt there.

The first grunt looked at the second's poker hand and threw his own down on the table in sudden anger.

"MOTHERFUCKER! HE WAS BLUFFING! I BET 4 WEEKS SALARY ON THAT HAND!"

* * *

Back in the arena, DJ had remembered the few times he was in here and in control of his body during the BR trials. The pure rush of power and adrenaline was unlike anything he had ever felt before, actually enjoying carving up grunt, agent and GOL3M alike. He then remembered how the cleanup method now was him eating the corpses most of the time. He noted if he ever escaped that he would have to keep that in check…

He observed the 3 body dummies before him, made of ballistics gel. They were crafted to look completely like male humans, from the facial expressions to the smaller details like fingernails.

Derek and James had joined him in the arena that day instead of going up into the booth to observe. Derek looked at his clipboard then to DJ.

"Your task is simple. As you have noted before, you have developed skills with your powers, and now I want you to demonstrate them. The targets are set up and I want you to use your powers against them. To my understanding from what you have told us, you have 3 skills as of now. The Power Fist, The Shadow Strike, and The Surgeon Shred. These dummies are our gun training targets, to emphasize certain guns effects, they have been produced with fake internal organs such as the lungs and the brain." Derek explained, motioning to the 3 dummies.

DJ went over to the first one, charging his Power Fist. Over the time spent at the facility he had learnt how to execute it without increasing the size of his fist, which resulted in a much more compact and pinpoint release of the energy without reducing the power. He had recently learned how to turn that energy of the strike into electrical charges of pure improbable energy. This meant he could taze a person into submission with a simple punch.

He sent his fist into the chest target, who was violently torn in half by the sheer force of the punch. The torso flew backwards into the wall and splattered violently as the remaining legs and waist just collapsed backwards.

Derek nodded smiling. "Nicely done! That knocks out The Power Fist." He ticked off the clipboard, "Now, the Shadow Strike."

DJ moved across to the next dummy in the line which was wearing padded armor, but went behind the still target instead of attempting the attack from the front.

The Shadow Strike was a move he had perfected by studying the use of an ancient dagger known as a Pugio. He had learned that by mimicking the broad but flat blade with his hand he could achieve a silent but extremely lethal blow that would allow him to penetrate through even moderate level armor like it was clothing.

He flattened his right hand out as he covered the dummies mouth, and drove his flattened hand straight through the chest of the dummy. His hand came out the other side covered in fake blood which poured out of the wound as he removed his hand and laid the dummy down without making a sound.

Derek was impressed at the result. "Your hand cut right through the heart without displacing it, and better yet you were completely silent with it. Very nice. Time for your final skill." He was clearly excited as he ticked off the second move on the clipboard. DJ had explained it to him previously in short, but this was his chance to see it first hand. DJ's secret shock and awe move.

The Surgeon shred.

DJ moved to the front of the unarmored dummy. He used all his strength to shove his hand flattened hand deep into the upper chest of the dummy without going all the way through, which was certain death anyway. However, the move was much more violent. All of a sudden, he tore downwards with incredible strength and speed, tearing open the front of the dummy and spilling its fake guts all over the ground in a bloody looking mess. Derek ticked off the move but said nothing, he was shocked indeed by the sheer violence of such a move.

"Ok… time for a new test. We will repeat the tests again but with live targets."

James was about to protest when Derek called over the radio for 3 staff to be sent to the arena with one in medium protection padded armor.

As the three filed into the arena a few seconds later, James closed his mouth, and didn't say anything, but simply glared at Derek, who didn't seem to care.

Derek got them to stand in a line before turning his attention to DJ. "I want you to perform the moves in sequence. Just the order you performed them in just before."

DJ had to admit, with a grunt and two agents standing in front of him, he wanted oh so badly to wreak their shit.

The grunt was first up, he just looked fucking terrified, unsure of what was going to happen. He opened his mouth to ask, only for his head to be sent flying backwards and hitting the wall at high speed, nearly completely disintegrating on contact with the wall as his body fell backwards. DJ had Power Fisted the grunts head off his shoulders, making he agents look on in shock.

The first agent in the armor was about to protest to this when he suddenly found his mouth covered and a hand had driven itself through his chest. He tried to cry out for help but found his world going dark. DJ removed his hand and put the agent down gently to keep the noise down as was the point of the move.

The second agent was too stunned and paralysed with fear to move, which spelt a nasty death for him. DJ drove his still flattened hand into the chest of the agent just below the collarbone. The agent found it hard to breath but was soon cured of that problem, as DJ tore his hand down the agents body. The agent fell to his knees in death, his organs and blood spilling all over the floor in a truly shocking and horrific mess as his body was now hollow where his organs once were.

The whole time, Derek was half amazed and half disgusted, while James was clearly disgusted by the fact he was dry retching the whole time.

Derek went over to DJ clapping. "Bravo! What a display. Now that's a terrorising attack. Nicely done."

"How about we have lunch in the cafeteria? I hardly think these ones will suit as a meal for you given how much is left of them. I do believe it is Taco Tuesday if my memory serves correctly".

DJ's stomach answered for him before he could say anything, growling loudly. He had to admit, taco's sounded amazing after eating nothing but corpses and half dead grunts/agents for 3 days.

"Fine…" He replied quietly, trying not to give away his desire to eat.

"Great! You joining us James?" Derek looked to the disgusted engineer who was trying to regain his composure, and not doing so well, as he had to lift his mask even.

"The fact... you can eat after that is just messed up..." He was not impressed by the display he had just witnessed at all apparently.

"Eh. The dead are the dead. Suit yourself though." Derek lead DJ out into the hallway, with James going in the other direction towards the bathrooms. DJ was licking the agents blood off his gloved hand to get it clean. Although Derek did find this of all things mildly disturbing, he said nothing as they entered the cafeteria.

It was about the size of your average office staff lunch room, but it smelt like heaven because of the tacos.

DJ couldn't help but drool a little at the smell as he sat down. God he missed hot meals, and he had gotten hooked on taco's back a the outpost since they did amazing dinners there for such a small base.

Derek had gotten himself a single taco since they were twice the size of your average taco, but knowing DJ's increased hunger and appetite, he got 3 for him.

Sitting at the table, he handed DJ his plate. "Thanks…" he looked at his plate for a few seconds before digging in ravenously, enjoying the first taste of actual food for the first time in about a month.

Derek couldn't help but smile as DJ ate, despite his rather savage way of eating. For once in his life, there was no project or experiment to get in the way. He was feeling a father like connection for the first time in a very long time.

DJ had finished his taco's rather quickly despite their size while Derek was only quarter way through his.

Derek looked over at him, "I have a gift for you that your mother made me promise to give to you." He fished a small device out of his pocket and slid it across the table to DJ

He inspected the IPod wrapped in headphones as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve passed to him. "What's this?"

"Back ages ago when she was still alive your mother loved music. You both had similar tastes in music. That was her's originally. I updated it and kept the old songs as well as added new ones. I assume your music tastes are the same still?" Derek explained before going back to eating his taco.

DJ unwound the headphones and put them in his ears. Sure enough, all the old music like Avenged Sevenfold and Metallica were there as well as newer music. He had faint memories of him and his mother bonding over music like that. It was a happy memory despite how fuzzy and little he remembered of it.

"Your mother said to put one song on there that reminded me of her so you could remember her as well. It's a fairly new song and maybe not to your taste but it suits her memory." He finished his taco.

DJ scanned through the ancient IPod finding the song, till he found one renamed to Beth's Song.

DJ began to listen, only to recognise the song immediately from the time Mari let him use the internet at the outpost freely.

"This is Siames's song… The Wolf. She is like this song?"

Derek chuckled, his smile turning to a grin, "You kidding? She constantly questioned the reality we had here. How we could never live in the light of the public, how we seemed crazy to work for the AAHW, how we could never escape what we have done if the public found out, but mainly how we could never escape the grasp of the Auditor unless death took us. She got lucky I guess, she escaped the wolf…" He went quiet at the end, his mind drawing back to how it was really his fault she wound up dead at all.

DJ shrugged it off and looked at the device. Nothing was off about the small black IPod, but he noticed it had no power bar.

"Hey, Isn't there supposed to be a power bar to show how much battery is left?"

Derek looked back up, and smiled again, "Oh right, you know how I said I upgraded it right? I had some free time between projects so I rigged the system to produce energy off of heat, and since use of it builds heat, the battery charges off of the heat, so the battery never runs out. Never thought I would be proud of making a music device run infinitely but hey, you take the plus's in life where you can right?"

DJ nodded, looking back at the device and taking the headphones out. He turned it off and pocketed the thing before looking back up at Derek.

"You know, that is actually really impressive." He smiled.

Derek was about to say thank you when he was cut off by a loud explosion that rocked the whole facility, quickly followed by a loud alarm that sounded through the whole facility.

" _Caution. A-"_ The power suddenly went out, plunging the facility into pitch black darkness until the emergency lights on the walls came on.

DJ could see perfectly fine due to his mutated eyes allowing his night vision to be 10 times that of a normal human. Despite not having that commodity however, Derek seemed to be celebrating the sudden darkness and explosion.

"What's up with you? The facility is under attack and you are celebrating like you won the fucking potluck. What gives?" DJ questioned, a bit confused.

Derek looked to DJ grinning like a madman, "I called them here to attack and destroy the facility! It's our way out of here!"

DJ went blank for a moment, then came back to reality again, trying to comprehend what he just heard.

"So… You called the Anti, and sold this place out so you could get me and you out?"

Derek nodded, "Yep, that's the long and short."

DJ sighed, shaking his head, "This day is just getting stranger by the fucking minute. Ok, so now we get out I guess?"

"Lead the way. You can see better than I can. Oh, I heard you like big caliber weapons so take this." He fished a Desert Eagle from out of his lab coat, how he found room for that in there was a mystery in itself.

DJ picked up the hand cannon of a pistol and stood up, heading towards the back door with Derek following close behind as to not get lost.

The sounds of gunfire and screaming death filled the echoing hallways. This wouldn't be easy, but DJ remembered he had escaped from worse, after all, this didn't even begin to compare to the time he had to escape a facility naked and without any equipment.

How hard could getting out of a small and understaffed facility be?

* * *

A/N: Well, chapter 6. Quite the advance huh? I never get this far with any of my stories according to history XD

I wanna keep things short for pages sake so when this is eventually beta'd by my savior Spirit9871 it won't be so much of a hassle.

So without much else to say let's move onto OC Credits:

* * *

 **James McLeary:** 37

 **Gregori Sinig:** Jack

* * *

Ok, and that's that.

Or as some people say, that's how the cookie crumbles.

Catch you all later.

~TDMD


	7. Chapter 7: Smoke

Chapter 7: Smoke

* * *

A/N: I normally do not create Authors Notes before the beginning of chapters but I feel I must reiterate a few points here as these topics do come up in this chapter so prepare for a bit of a lengthy one. Firstly, I do not condone smoking. It is not a healthy habit and it is one I had difficulty kicking myself, so please for the love of all that is holy DO NOT smoke while underage or of age even. Please consider not doing it for the betterment of your own health.

Secondly once again I reiterate that I do not condone underage drinking. It is bad for you and will only harm you long term. Even if you are of age, drink in moderation if you do.

Finally, and the most important one and one that was brought up recently to me, never do steroids or drugs that are not prescribed to you by a medical professional. An example from the HL universe of steroids would be the drugs from the Stat Boosting Station such as the Vigorants and Endurants, and drug example would be the serum from this novel nicknamed BR. Drugs will fuck you up nine ways from Kevin's house and leave you as a shell of a person over time regardless of how often you do them. Once is enough to fuck with most people, so please for your own sakes NEVER DO DRUGS OR STEROIDS UNLESS THEY ARE PRESCRIBED TO YOU BY A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL OR YOUR CHEMIST. Not to mention they are illegal in most countries.

Sorry for the lengthy note, but I felt like I needed to reiterate those points heavily.

* * *

 _ **~20 minutes earlier~**_

* * *

"So we have 20 ounces of plastic explosive…" The operative getting out of his truck idly stated while looking at a clipboard.

"Ounces? The fuck are you using the metric system for? Unlike you we have no clue what that means." His compatriot scoffed, getting out the back.

"Fine… For the mission we were assigned… 1.25 pounds of C4." He replied, putting the clipboard down on a crate in the back.

The second operative looked at him in annoyance. "We were assigned a piss all amount of C4 to attack a base with… What the fuck.".

The first agent shrugged, uncovering a crate that held the small amount of C4, "Not my call. Victor said this was all we needed. He's bringing leveling charges with him from what I understand."

The second jumped down from the back onto the snow covered sand, pulling a clip from his belt and slapping it into his Uzi. "Victor is leading this? Ok, forget I said anything. I don't need him to verbally lash me to death with his unique accent, or whatever he calls it."

"Ye mean ta sey ye been questionin' me orders Havel?"

The second, apparently named Havel, jumped in fright, while the first shook his head.

Victor had been there the whole time.

"N-no… Just…" Havel stuttered.

"Ye wanna make teh place go boom huh? Well tough shet. We gots ta make dis quiet and sneaky beaky like." He was hefting a silenced SCAR-H.

"Figured that from the equipment. 4 man team, silenced equipment, and one of these new fangled EMP detonators from R&D. What's so important about this place that we have to EMP the whole thing and go in as quiet as possible despite the obvious entry option" He put the crate on the sand at his feet.

"Two reasons. Teh first is privit. Teh second, techie 'ere from out north can explain." Victor pointed his thumb behind him.

Sitting on Victor's jeep's spare tire was a thin man, donned in a black bodysuit with a kevlar torso cover and combat boots. Ruffled short brown hair and pale skin were his prominent features, although his rather slim green tinted glasses seemed rather unique in themselves. He was smoking a cigarette, which made Havel nervous, being an avid believer in the smokers curse.

Taking a long drag then discarding the butt into the snow, he exhaled with a sigh, "I am not sure how much you know, but apparently, one of the fabled IE scientists is here conducting trials to improve upon the project you lot have already seen, as well as a much more dangerous one that is a complete unknown. Capturing an IE scientist will prove very valuable to us as a whole, weather the east splits or not."

The first operative, who now donned a metal vest painted black with the name Steven engraved into the layered plates, paused for a moment, looking up at him.

"An IE? You're sure? Such a valuable person so far out here seems crazy…" He quietened at the end, seemingly in disbelief. Havel on the other hand seemed confused, "IE? The fuck are you two on about?"

Steven shook his head, "Doesn't matter. Just know that this person is a scientist who can do seemingly impossible things with the perverted science the AAHW uses."

Victor nodded, "Best ye don' know. Reality seems less terrifyin' the less ye know." He loaded his rifle and slung a duffle bag over his back. He seemingly wore no armor.

The techie came over and grabbed a blast helmet from the back of the truck that too had been painted black, as well as a SWAT style ski mask. He got a rather vicious looking L33T sword that had jagged teeth carved into the front blades side.

Steven outfitted himself with a silenced Five-Seven, and donned a hooded trench coat over his metal vest, which hid the heavy metal plating quite well.

Havel was the heaviest equipped, not only carrying the C4 in a bag, but also equipping himself in a full body suit of padded metal armor that featured a full metal helmet with a face mask shaped to look like the face of a skull. He was armed with a silenced RPK, as well as 2 backup Beretta 92's, also silenced.

Steven looked to the young techie, who was lighting up another cigarette, "What's your name kid?".

"Hanz. Hanz Soloschmitz." he replied, saying the complicated as fuck last name as if it were something normal.

Steven rolled his eyes which were obscured by the heavy hood to others. " _Great. Another kid who chose a stupidly complicated name… and one with an affiliation for smoking."_

Victor lead the approach to the fence with the others in tow. Upon reaching the fence, Hanz stepped forward, drawing his sword and hooking one of the thick chainlinks into the teeth on the sword. He slashed downwards and snapped the chainlink with eas, then repeated it for the other half to create a pathway to walk through before sheathing his blade again and stepping through the large gap, Victor following behind him, then Havel and Steven.

They reached the side of the base, and found the remains of a burnt trash can. Hanz looked along the concrete wall, running his hand along it till he stopped and nodded to a place in the wall that appeared to have its paint chipped, "Plant the C4 here. Behind this should be the armory, with the generator just off to the left."

Havel went over and set up the explosives, while Steven prepared the activator. "How do you know that?" Steven asked, his breath turning to puffs of smoke rivaling those of Hanz's cigarette.

Hanz tapped his glasses, "Part of my experiment. The glasses give me instantaneous layouts of buildings schematics, gun parts, even the parts of machinery. Hence why I work in R&D and as my outposts mechanic up north."

Steven nodded, it made sense at least, the glasses did seem strange from first glance, now his suspicions were reaffirmed was all.

Havel stepped back, as Hanz stood over by Victor who gave him the EMP detonator.

Steven flicked the cap off the cylindrical C4 activator. "Everyone ready?"

Hanz drew his sword, while Havel cocked back the RPK. Victor just seemed to want to start.

Readying his pistol in his other hand, Steven activated the C4, which blew a large hole in the side of the building. The four quickly entered and found the armory short stocked and mainly empty, both of staff and weaponry.

Not wasting any time, Hanz opened the generator room door and put the EMP device on the generator's main control panel.

He got back and detonated the device, which sent a huge electrical blast into the panel and through the generator.

" _Caution, A-"_ The automated alert voice cut out with the power, as red emergency lights lit the walls.

Havel was already engaging the panicking grunts in the hallway outside the armory, bullets tearing through them like blood soaked tissue paper.

Victor was giving him backup, as Steven looked around the armory a little. "Why are they so under equipped? I see a few M1911's but that's as powerful as they get. Havel's Uzi would suffice better than any of these for defending the base…".

The firefight in the hallway ended, with Victor coming back in, "They were betray'd from de inside. The cheeky shet has ben under stockin teh place for past tree deys."

"Inside job? Who's the one who organized it?"

Victor laughed heartily, flicking the spent magazine away and reloading his SCAR. "Ye been out east for what? Tree years? Ye should know by new, don't ask shet question's."

Steven sighed as Victor went past him into the generator room, and resigned to the fact he would not find out till later, picking up one of the stock 1911's and pocketing it in the trench coats right pocket, as Hanz stepped out and looked around.

"If you planned to meet up in the offices, we will need to go a floor up using the stairs through that door and through the cafeteria. We will also have to watch out for the new units they are training here. Intel suggests they are creating new heavy units." Hanz remarked, approaching the door he mentioned.

"Aye. Teh new GOL3M unit's. Dey be big an' brutish, but dumb as a sack o' potateo's." Victor commented as he came back out into the hallway, following Hanz into the stairwell, with Steven in behind and Havel taking up the rear.

* * *

 _ **~Present time~**_

* * *

Before DJ and Derek could get down the hallway, they had to go back in the cafeteria to avoid running into a few agents. Unfortunately, the three agents they had seen entered the cafeteria.

DJ wasted no time, and blew an agents head open with the Deagle, making the other two turn around and draw their handguns. Pissy little Walther PPK's.

Seeing as how they seemed hardly sufficient to even scratch him, he rushed forward and sent a punch to the closest agents head, crushing the skull in.

The final agent fired wildy and blindly at the shadow figure, only to miss every shot and hit the tables behind DJ who leveled the Deagle with the agents head.

 _Click_

The sound of the hammer being cocked back in the mostly silent room was ear piercingly loud to the agent.

"Headicus Explodicus."

DJ pulled the trigger. The bullet bew the agents head wide open as his blood and brain matter scattered across the wall, his lifeless body falling backwards.

Walking back to Derek, he checked the magazine. "Now then, if there are no more interruptions, where are we headed?"

"My office is where we are meant to meet up. Take a right in the hallway, then a left, and the door at the end is my office." Derek replied, wiping the warm splotches from his face. He dared not question is it was blood or brain.

DJ opened the door again, and looked around. The coast was clear. He grabbed Derek by the shoulder and pulled him through the door.

Derek took that as DJ wanting him to take point. At least he could kind of see now his eyes had adjusted a bit.

DJ peeked up and down the second hallway, and found it to be clear as well. Derek ran down the hallway to his office door with DJ close behind. Unlocking the door with his keycard, he pulled the handle and opened it. Unlike every other door, it was a standard wooden door with a handle, but loser inspection of it revealed that it was much like a safe door with thick metal bars inside it.

Entering the sun lit room, Derek closed and locked the door once more once they were both inside. DJ pocketed the Deagle, and went over to the desk while derek went to his bookshelf.

* * *

 _ **[Anti Squad]**_

The ascent up the stairs was quiet, as the base fell into disarray with no power and no communications. The few soldat's and other engineers that were there had been pulled back to the labs to defend the research, which was on the first floor below them, so they encountered no real resistance.

Finding their way into the cafeteria, they found a few bodies and blood splatters on the dimly lit walls.

"Looks like your man on the inside started to do some work." Steven remarked.

Victor said nothing, going behind the counter and entering the kitchen with Havel following suit, while Steven and Hanz remained outside.

His hunger getting the best of him, Steven picked up one of the taco's and dug into it, gaining a scowl from Hanz.

"We are on a high risk mission and you seem fit to stuff your face?"

Steven gave him the finger and swallowed, "Your smoking. Fuck off and give me some room to enjoy what may be my last meal before I die in some strange way due to secondhand smoke." He had wolfed down the whole thing, and was moving onto another, this time it was a chilli taco.

Hanz rolled his eyes and went to the corpses. His glasses had a night mode that let him see as if the room was lit. "Looks like a big caliber… .50 AE maybe?"

Steven was wolfing down his third taco when Victor and Havel came out to see him, he froze.

Victor sighed, "Fock sakes… Oh well. Free food right?" He picked up one as well and one handed his SCAR, going to the door. Havel seemed disappointed. He couldn't eat unless he took his whole helmet off. Steven finished the fourth taco before finally moving away from the counter. Hanz was guarding the door, sword drawn once more.

Victor walked out into the hallway, finishing his taco. "Decent food at least…" He remarked to himself as he turned to Hanz. "Where's teh office at?" he asked, brushing his hand clean of the taco shell dust.

Hanz pointed to the right, "Down there, then left. The office is at the end of the hallway."

Victor nodded, and once Havel and Steven had come through the doors, he motioned for them to follow.

* * *

 _ **[D &D]**_

Scanning the desk's items, he spotted a photo sitting amongst the papers and files. Picking it up, DJ looked at the old polaroid.

"Hey… is this a photo of…"

"Me, you and your mother? Yes. She insisted that we have some sort of momento to remember the two years we spent there with you." Derek stopped looking through his bookshelf for a moment.

DJ blinked, then looked back at the photo, "I was going to ask was this a photo of the Southward Car Museum in Paraparaumu back in New Zealand but ok…"

Derek grinned, "Yes, it was taking there. Your mother loved her cars." He turned back to the bookshelf, and ran his hand along a row of books, before stopping.

"Ah! Here it is!" He pulled the book out, only for it to not come all the way out. Pulling on it harder, the shelf came out of the wall, revealing a nice little personal armory.

DJ put the photo absentmindedly in his other pocket, and came over.

Although it wasn't the western divisions armory, it was decently stocked. A few Deagles, 2 what looked like .44 magnum revolvers, some frag grenades, and a Striker shotgun.

"Nice little collection you have here…" DJ remarked, observing how well kept all the guns were.

Derek sighed, a smile gracing his features. "I used to collect stamps. Being in the AAHW forced me to change that up, so I started collecting guns and equipment."

"No kidding." DJ picked up the Striker, noting that the drum seemed bigger than normal, "How many shells can you fit in this thing?"

Derek grabbed 2 flechette shotgun shell boxes, "32 in total. I had it enhanced to hold more so it wasn't as reliant on constant refills."

DJ's jaw dropped, "3… 32 rounds?!" He was in disbelief that such an enhancement existed for the weapon.

"Custom equipment is always much better." Derek remarked as he got the shotgun from DJ and started loading it. Two shotgun shell boxes later, the weapon was fully loaded.

Hearing a distinctive and rhythm like knock on the door, Derek gave the shotgun to DJ and went to the door, unlocking and opening it.

Sure enough, it was the squad of Victor, Hanz, Steven and Havel. After they entered Derek closed and locked the door once more.

DJ turned to face the new arrivals. He immediately smiled as he remembered one of them. "Heavens above, is that you Victor?"

Victor for once smiled in a way that didn't seem mocking, more… sincere. "Aye, it be me."

Derek came back over to DJ. The whole time, Steven and one could assume Havel too were giving Derek the evil eye. They didn't seem to trust him at all, while Hanz looked at him with curiosity.

"So you are the IE… And this one with you is the one who betrayed and captured you in your office?"

Victor chuckled, "Really Hanz? Ye don' recognize teh lad?"

DJ frowned and raised an eyebrow, "Hanz? Hanz Soloschmitz?"

Hanz narrowed his eyes at DJ, "How do you know my name? There's no way the AAHW could know my name after I wiped it from their files…"

DJ smirked, "You may have, but given I had to put up with your bullshit for months on end back at the outpost till we settled it a few weeks before it all ended. Last I heard you and Red were still a thing."

Hanz immediately growled, folding his arms, "Oh. It's YOU." The malice in his voice was clear.

Derek seemed confused, "Drake? What happened between you two?"

DJ grinned and put the shotgun down, leaning against the desk, "He had beef with me because apparently one of his squad mates was used in the early stages of the experiment that produced my mutations. He apparently had a thing for this squadmate."

Derek thought back, then snapped his fingers, "Ah yes! Subject X-4. Poor girl, she exploded."

DJ grimaced, "Lord almighty dad, you don't have to actually say it…".

Hanz's body visibly stiffened, "Wait… You're…"

Derek knew where he was going. "Yes, I am Derek Jameson. Also known in the IE scientist division as 'The Reaper'. Although back than I held the title of 'The Author.' due to me genetically re-writing and altering people in what you know as the Experiment Division. You should have known me already at first sight H-61. I attended to every experiment personally.".

Hanz began to draw his sword, but Victor stopped him, "Not teh time lad." He stepped forward as Hanz sheathed his sword once more.

Derek sighed, "Now we just have to get out of here." DJ picked the shotgun back up. "Easy enough. The staff are a bunch of pushovers."

Victor put his gloved hand on DJ's shoulder, "We 'aint fightin' our wey out lad. We be goin' through dat window." He pointed to the large windows behind them. Derek nodded in confirmation. "I stole a whole bunch of the new Flexile Cord from the lab. We can use it to rappel down the side. Well, we will. Your legs can handle the jump."

DJ shook his head, "Wait… Did I just hear that right? I can jump from a story up without hurting myself?"

Derek shrugged, grabbing a pitch black and thin rope from inside the desk's large cabinet. "Well, actually more like two but the principle is the same regardless. Enough training and you could most likely jump from one story up without making a sound on landing."

DJ was speechless to say the least, he was always sure his mutations would let him do more than he already knew, but never to that extent.

Hanz was silent, not really appreciating the knowledge of who they were saving/capturing, but he had to follow his orders of his superiors as Victor ordered him to cut a hole in the window.

Drawing his sword and putting it against the window, he ran the smooth side of the blade up the window, creating a scratch line, he made it as tall as DJ, who was the tallest person at 6"2. He then cut across, then back down again. Finishing it by cutting along the lining at the floor, he sheathed his sword and pushed the pane of glass in the center of where he cut, making the perfect rectangle fall out and onto the snowy ground outside.

Wrapping the cable tightly around his bowie knife, Victor called DJ over.

"Drive dis thing inta the wall next to teh window." he hadned the knife to DJ, who hung out the window and drove the knife blade firmly into the concrete, pulling on the rope with as much strength as one could expect a person to weigh. The knife didn't budge.

"Ok. Jump down and we will join you." Derek motioned for him to jump.

DJ looked out and breathed in before attempting the jump, readying himself for a jump he never thought he was going to make.

Taking the leap, he unintentionally backflipped and landed feet first, bending his legs to absorb the impact.

Only there was no impact. He felt nothing. It was quite strange to feel nothing from a jump like that. He turned around and looked up, giving the thumbs up.

Back up in the office, Steven scoffed. "Pfft. Damn show off."

Derek was the first to descend, making it down quickly. Good thing the rope held because he was quite rushed. One could assume that came from a disliking of heights.

Steven went next. His was quick but was much more controlled. He gave the thumbs up as well when he got to the bottom.

Hanz was next, he didn't even bother with a climb, he just slid down the rope with no care in the world.

Havel somewhat apprehensive went next. He was going low but doing well until the halfway point, he lost his grip and fell off, landing in the snow next to the pane of glass on his back. Steven helped him up laughing.

Victor was the last to descend. He had gone back and grabbed one of the Deagles and one of the revolvers. He descended in his own time, going slow but not too slow. Once he was down, he got DJ to come over.

"Giv' it a yank." He handed the cable to him. Pulling as hard as he could, he dislodged a whole chunk of the wall instead of the knife.

Steven flinched as the heavy concrete hit the ground with a rather loud and deep _THUD._

DJ gripped the knife and pulled it from the slab, unwrapping the cord from the hlt before handing it back to Victor, who put it back in his thigh mounted sheath.

"Never one for subtle approaches huh?" Havel remarked as DJ came to stand in the snow next to him.

DJ grinned and slapped him on the back. "About as subtle as that armor of yours."

Havel took off his helmet finally and gave him a glare. The reaction made Steven laugh as he lowered his hood back, "Wow Havel, I've never seen you show so much emotion before."

"Oh shut up." He started walking back, following the footsteps of Hanz, who had already started the trek back.

The others followed suit soon after, with DJ following up Derek, who was having a lovely chat with Victor. The conversation seemed to confuse Steven. How anyone could talk with Victor for more than a minute without losing their mind with his strange accent was mind boggling to him.

Crossing under the fence, and returning to the vehicles, Havel dumped his helmet and RPK in a box in the back. Hanz had removed the majority of his equipment, leaving only the bodysuit and his glasses on. Steven decided against removing any of his equipment, while Victor grabbed a PDA out of his jeep.

DJ had returned to his jeep. After giving it a clean off of the snow, he got it going and drove it to the others, fishing a beer out of the fridge in the back and cracking it open, taking a deep drink.

"Hey! Your not old enough to drink." Derek scolded, DJ chuckled. "I may be 17, but the legal drinking age in NZ is 16, so I am respecting that rule as a New Zealand citizen. Or have you forgotten that I am not officially a citizen of America?"

"He's got ye there De. A drink won' kill teh lad." Victor remarked, going over to Havel and patting him on the back

"Havel! Ye wannid ta see a boom ya? Watch dis." He drew out the stylus pen and tapped a few things on it, then looked to the facility, drawing the whole group's attention.

* * *

" _Their gone sir."_ The grunt remarked over the radio.

"The hell do you mean they are gone?" James replied rather angrily. He had gone outside and found the window pane cut and the wall chunk laying on the ground.

" _We looked throughout the entire complex sir! There is no one here! The Warden just came back from his ordered route and nothing was found!"_

James growled and kicked the snow in anger. Whoever it was planned this out and wasn't a rookie team looking for a graduation or a score.

He grabbed the radio from his shoulder bag strap and changed the channel to the other scientists feed.

"Sinig. You have anything?"

" _Negative. I'm still here in the lab. They didn't come here for the projects it seems."_

James sighed, at least the projects here untouched. That meant whoever was attacking didn't know what was being done here.

He suddenly got an alert on his PDA. It was the video call alert.

"Hold on professor. I have a call." He cut the radio and opened the call. It was his assistant engineer.

"Dann. How's the generator coming?"

Dann shook his head as he took off his mask, " _Not good. They didn't actually damage the system, just used an EMP or something to kill the system. It's fried the breakers and fuses. If it were just the generator it would be easy being how old it is… Wait, what's that beeping? There's nothing in an analog system like this that beeps."_

James frowned. "Beeping? Dann what's going on?"

" _Wait… oh my god RU-"_ There was just a loud explosion, the force of it knocked James over despite being on the other side of the facility. The whole ground floor of the building collapsed in on itself all of a sudden, while the first floor was engulfed in flames as it came down.

Quickly getting up and moving back as best he could in the semi thick snow, he just barely escaped the fireball that engulfed where he was seconds before. Good thing too, when it retracted back in the building, where he was earlier had all the snow melted and the sand underneath was either charred black or glassed.

James turned the radio off as the screams of burning and crushed grunts and agents alike filled the transmission. Suddenly an electrical blast from the other end erupted and created a bright blue light, that then vanished.

Curiosity getting the better of him, James knew where that was from as the rough location of the lab. He wandered around to the side trying his best to ignore the cries of pain that mixed with the sounds of the roaring fire.

When he got around to the side, he witnessed a very strange sight. The lab area was perfectly cut from the building. The cuts seemed so seamless that it almost seemed like the lab had never existed in the first place.

"Damn it…" he growled, witnessing the remains of the GOL3M warden, only half of it remained, the cut through its body and armor was perfect, and slightly charred.

"I will find who did this…" He murmured as he looked at the remains of where the armory and generator would be, drawing his Deagle and loading a fresh magazine into it.

"And I will make them suffer for this."

* * *

A/N: Alright, yet another chapter down. Gonna keep this one short too for editing sake XP

OC Credits:

* * *

 **James Mcleary:** 37

 **Steven:** Jack

 **Havel:** Jack

 **Amazing Tacos:** Derek (He brought me homemade tacos while I was writing chapters 6 and 7, cheers man ^^)

* * *

And that's that for this chapter. Catch you guys in the next chapter.

~TDMD


End file.
